The Claiming
by dixiegurl13
Summary: It's hard doing the right thing when you fight in a war for all the wrong reasons. He didn't want to participate; he didn't want to have anything to do with that abhorrent ritual, but sometimes a really good thing is born from a really bad situation.
1. The Claiming

**A/N: Just a little plot bunny that sprang up to bite me in the aft! This one has been sitting on my computer for quite a while and has been watching me like those Geico money eyes I see on TV all the time. I couldn't take it anymore!! Anyway, this fic uses G1 characters, but doesn't take place in any timelines other than the War. There were just certain characters I wanted to use because they felt right for the part. This will be a two-shot and unless the bunny turns rabid on me, will be much, much shorter than my other fics. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: You guessed it! I don't own Transformers; people with a lot more money than I, do.**

**The Claiming**

Clouds of thick, black smoke drifted across the devastated remains of the once small, Neutral town. Buildings crumbled to the ground and small portions of the town still burned with patches of orange and yellow flame. The cries of the injured, dying and orphaned drifted across the desolation like a cold winter breeze, freezing the sparks of those left alive with cold despair. Theirs had been a peaceful place, untouched by hatred, violence, and malice. The War had been far away—too far away to ever touch their homes or their children—so they thought.

The Decepticons hit their sleepy, little haven with the force a Class 5 solar storm, leveling the town in mere astroseconds. Most of the fight-capable mechs were slaughtered instantly; they were no match for the far more experienced and battle-tested Decepticon warriors. Young, old, strong, feeble, mech or femme--there were no prejudices against those bodies strewn across the landscape, just as broken and battered as the town in which they lived.

All warrior-bred cultures knew of the spoils of war. It was what fed their insatiable desire to conquer, to win, and to subjugate those beneath them to their indomitable will. Megatron's Decepticons were no different. The great Slagmaker wanted to strike fear into all Cybertronians; he wanted to demoralize the Autobots where he knew it would hurt them the most—the innocent. And so began one of the most brutal, terrifying traditions within the Decepticon ranks; it was known as the Claiming. Whenever the Decepticons ravaged a new town, all femmes of age were taken prisoner and all young mechs soon to come of age to fight were indoctrinated. Those too old or too young were either killed or left to cope with the destruction.

Now, kilometers away from the desolate town, the Decepticons had safely retreated into one of their many sub-bases scattered across Cybertron. Within the base's large command room, a small group of frightened femmes sat huddled together, fear and apprehension apparent in their optics. At this point in the War, all young femmes had heard rumors of the Claiming. Once a femme was taken hostage, she was never seen alive again. Horrible acts were committed and unwanted deeds dealt. Many said it was a fate worse than self-termination; some even chose that route.

There were eighteen total. Of the eighteen, two were sister-sparks and even rarer still they were formatted flyers. Very much a rarity among Cybertronians, but as a result the two sisters were the object of most of the red-eyed stares. They were furthest from the front, tightly hugging each other and trying their best to just meld into the wall. One of the sisters, her colors navy blue and silver, risked a frightened glance around the room. Her light blue optics scanned the milling crowd of lecherous optics. Just before she averted her gaze back to the floor, her optics briefly met a pair of red ones that were void of any emotion save for revulsion. Hope briefly filled her spark as their optics held briefly, but as quickly as it came, it was crushed into metallic shavings as the mysterious mech quickly averted his gaze. Small droplets of fluid pooled in her optics and dribbled to the floor. There truly was no more hope. Suddenly a chilling, terrifying voice cut over the din, silencing all that were present—it was the Slagmaker himself.

"Decepticons! The time has come to reward your loyalty to me! Choose now the femme of your choice and take this time to enjoy the spoils of our victory!"

The time they had all been dreading was nigh. Like a pack of cackling, ravenous hyenas the Cons quickly closed in on the helpless femmes. Some screamed, others fainted, still others fought tooth and nail, but it only forestalled the inevitable. Hungry leers and ravenous optics quickly descended on the terrified Neutrals.

Quietly standing to one side, Thundercracker watched these proceedings with disgust. Since the despicable tradition began he refused to take any part in it whatsoever. He stood with his back against the wall, his powerful wings flush with the dark, purple metal. One thrustered heel was also pressed against the wall, leaving tiny black scuff marks against the metal. His arms were crossed disapprovingly against his cockpit and his red optics were dimmed with smoldering repugnance. When he joined this War, he joined to fight against the oppression of the Senate, not to fight innocent mechs and femmes who had been subjugated to same oppression as him. The town they had just attacked made the third in two deca-cycles; all these towns had declared neutrality in the War. It had been a well-known fact.

He was a soldier, not a murderer, right? If he didn't participate in these abhorrent acts, he could still maintain some semblance of honor, couldn't he?

He carefully kept his optics focused on the floor, avoiding the gazes of both frightened victims and hungry aggressors. He didn't want to see that petrified look in another's eyes, he didn't want to see the despair in that one femme's optics for fear it would compound his guilt. But as the screams intensified, and the crying grew loud enough to shatter audio sensors, his anger, guilt and revulsion only seemed to increase with the volume.

He turned to leave the despicable scene, having had his fill of misery for the day, but as he pushed himself from the wall, his optics fell on the navy and silver Neutral. She had her back pressed against the wall, hands spread against the purple surface. Even from this distance he could see her slender wings vibrating from fear. Skywarp held her sister and was beginning to walk off with her; bright gold and blue transfers streaked his wingmate's normally immaculate paintjob. It appeared as if the sister had put up quite a struggle. She now lay limply in his arms, temporarily off-line due to the exertion of her efforts.

Motormaster now stood in front of the silver and navy femme reaching one large hand towards the femme's delicate throat. "You're coming with me, fly girl!" he growled threateningly to the femme. She off-lined her optics and yanked her head away as his fingers brushed her delicate chin.

"No!" she whispered, "Please don't hurt me!"

Motormaster laughed. It was a cruel, sparkless laugh filled with contempt and malice. "Oh, I'm gonna do a lot more than just hurt you! How would you like to be a ground-pounder like me!?" He lifted the femme off the floor by her neck with his right hand. Garbled, staticy noises escaped from her vocalizer as she twisted and kicked in the Stunticon's grasp like a cyber bass on a hook. Motormaster then reached for her right wing with his other hand, an evil, manic look gleaming in his optics.

Before the semi could follow through with his sadistic intention, a strong hand clasped onto his shoulder and spun him around. Startled by the sudden action, Motormaster released his grip on the femme, dropping her to the floor. She scuttled, crab-like, away from the two mechs, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and them. At first, Motormaster was shocked to see who had grabbed him so roughly, but shock quickly gave way to mocking anger.

"You!? What the slag do you want, Thundercracker? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Not anymore, you're not," Thundercracker rumbled quietly in return.

"Oh, really?" Motormaster sneered, knocking the black hand from his shoulder plates. "And just what are you going to do about it? Claim the piece of filth for yourself?"

"Exactly."

A thick silence fell between the two Decepticons. The command center had emptied by this time, leaving only the two soldiers and the frightened femme. She sat huddled in the corner, holding her arms across her tiny cockpit in order to keep her vibrations down. With fearful optics she watched the two Decepticons knowing that for better or for worse she was going to end up with one of them tonight.

A dangerous smirk pulled at the lip components of the semi's face. His optics darkened to a blood red as he replied coldly, "I'd like to see you try, Seeker." He stepped forward, bringing his bulk inches from Thundercracker's frame. The Stunticon was one of the largest Cons in the army and he towered over the finer built form of Thundercracker. Motormaster was not a mech to be toyed with for not only did he have the brawn and the baulk to back up his threats, he also had a notorious temper that knew no restraint.

Thundercracker merely smirked, a smirk that eerily resembled his Wing Commander's. "Sure you can see that far, bolt-breath?"

With speed that belied the bulk of a mech his size, Motormaster swung a vicious right hook, intending to crush Thundercracker's faceplates into shavings. But his fist met only air, as Thundercracker nimbly dodged the strike and put some distance between himself and Motormaster. The Stunticon leader was a close-quarters fighter and Thundercracker knew that his best bet to win this fight was to turn it into a distance match. To allow the hulking mech to land even one hit would probably be the end of him.

"Is that the best you got, you glorified land yatch?" he taunted, once again dodging a fierce punch. Motormaster roared angrily in return.

"Hold still so I can rip your wings off and use them as my new energon coasters!"

Before the blue Seeker could make a rebuttal, the doors to the command center hissed open revealing Megatron and Starscream preparing to enter the room. The two brawling Cons stopped instantly, frozen in place by the simmering glower set in Megatron's features. Starscream was the first to speak, stepping forward in front of Megatron, his dark face set into a scowl.

"What in the name of Primus is going on here!?" he demanded in that infamous voice. His question was directed to both posturing soldiers, but his blazing optics were drilling straight into his blue subordinate.

Before Motormaster could develop a response, Thundercracker spoke, "This piece of slag is trying to lay claim to _my _femme," he growled disparagingly.

"Is this true, Motormaster?" Megatron asked, leveling a hard glare at the Stunticon leader.

"Why you!...Of course it's…" Motormaster stuttered before being interrupted.

"True," Thundercracker interjected. "I'm laying claim to this femme, Megatron, and this dust-eater had the nerve to challenge _me_, a senior officer."

"Hmmm. I see," Megatron said softly. He and Starscream exchanged looks. The Aerial Commander had a mild look of surprise in his optics and the Supreme Commander had to admit, he himself was caught off-guard with the blue Seeker's sudden interest in the ritual. Although Thundercracker never advertised it, every single Con in the army knew of his vehement dislike for the tradition and his refusal to partake of the "spoils." Megatron wondered what had happened to cause his lieutenant to change his mind.

Megatron voiced his question. "Why the sudden interest, Thundercracker?"

For a fleeting instant, a look of triumph lit Motormaster's optics; his sneer was beginning to broaden into an evil grin.

Thundercracker turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to see his two superiors and still maintain eye contact with Motormaster. His optics betrayed no emotion whatsoever as he replied, "I've never seen anything worth my time, until now." He put just a tiny bit more stress on the last two words than necessary, focusing his glance briefly at Starscream before focusing once more on Megatron.

Starscream caught the subtle hint and spared a brief look at the femme curled up in the corner. Understanding filled his optics and he gave one short, barely discernable nod. Fortunately for either Seeker, the silent exchange went unnoticed by both Motormaster and Megatron.

"I see. Very well, Thundercracker, since you are a ranking senior officer you get the femme," Megatron turned to exit the room. Just before he disappeared down the corridor the Decepticon leader added, "I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for ruining your first Claiming."

"And you, get lost! If you want a femme so bad, go steal one from one of _your_ subordinates and not mine!" Starscream snarled at the passing Motormaster. The Stunticon leader roared in fury at the loss of his prize. He slammed a gigantic fist into the wall, the reverberations deafening within the room.

"YOU JUST WAIT, THUNDERCRACKER!! THIS ISN'T OVER, NOT BY A LONG SHOT!! ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU'LL SLIP UP, AND WHEN YOU DO _I'LL_ BE WAITING!!" The massive semi left the room, his anguished roaring still audible three corridors away.

Once the hallways had quieted, Starscream turned to Thundercracker. "Are you asking for a death sentence?" he hissed.

"So what if I am?" Thundercracker growled in return. "No femme should be put through _THAT _kind of torture, much less another flyer. What would you have had me do!?"

Starscream didn't reply for several astro seconds. "Ok, fine! You got me there!" he conceded. "But you better watch your thrusters from here on out," he warned.

"I can take care of myself," the blue Seeker grumbled, turning to survey the femme. She hadn't moved an inch since the confrontation began.

Starscream caught his wingmate's errant glance and followed up with a question. "Wasn't there two of them?" Starscream asked, nodding his head in the Neutral's direction.

"Yeah. Warp claimed the other one."

Starscream grunted in response; he turned to leave. "I just hope you haven't bitten off more than you can take. I also suggest you and your 'companion' lay low for the next few cycles and try to come up with a half-way believable story. "

Thundercracker arched an optic ridge in confusion. Starscream huffed his annoyance. "Must I spell everything out!? Honestly, TC, once word gets around that _you_ _claimed_ a femme, how long do you think you're going to have before every mech in this base starts to pester you for details? Get Skywarp to help you come up with a half-way decent lie; Primus knows lying is your worst facility." He left through the open door, broad white and red-striped wings dominating the hallway's width.

Thundercracker stood in the center of the room, pondering over what he had just done. _Me and my Primus-damned honor! _Starscream's words rang true. He had spent so many vorns snubbing the ritual that once word got around to what he had done, the other soldiers would be disbelieving without proof. Many already questioned his place in the ranks; if he didn't follow through on some type of violence with the Neutral, his "lack of participation" would only fuel their doubts and he could count on Motormaster to be there fanning the flames. But he refused to violate an innocent civilian, especially when at one point in time, Megatron had claimed to be fighting for the freedom of just such an individual. Had they already forgotten what they had set out fighting for? He released a large gust of air through his intakes. War had a peculiar way of illuminating the illustrious goals for which you fought while at the same time making the pathway of achievement a murky, disillusioned, moral mess.

* * *

The blue Seeker had a tight, constricting hold on the femme's elbow joint. The type of hold he held her in prevented the femme from twisting out of his hand; he had only to torque her elbow just a little to discourage any struggling. She shuffled with stumbling steps next to him, barely capable of keeping up with the Seeker's long strides. The whole proceeding she had witnessed back in the large room, both frightened her and confused her. Why had the blue flyer suddenly taken an interest in her? He seemed so indifferent before. What was going to happen now? Would she ever see her sister again? She was having difficulty feeling her twin through their bond. Was she already off-line? She stumbled again and felt a sharp pain rip through her elbow.

"Keep moving, femme," she heard her captor growl menacingly. His voice was low and slightly grating, but not exactly unpleasant.

Her sky-blue optics flickered with fear. She wanted to ask him why, but was too fearful to do so. Would he hit her? Laugh at her? Be angry? Maybe do all three? But she had to know! He had even lied to the silver Leader, what sick game was this monster playing? After several more silent kliks and a few more stumbles, her morbid curiosity finally won over her fear of the unknown.

"Why?" she whispered through stiff lips. She felt rather than saw his optics on her.

"What was that?"

She hesitated briefly before repeating her timid question. "Why did you c-c-claim me?" she elaborated, stumbling over her words as much as she was her thrusters.

The grip on her elbow tightened, but then gradually loosened. "That's none of your concern."

She quickly dimmed her optics and stared at the floor. Shortly thereafter, they stopped before a large metal door. The Decepticon quickly punched in a code on the keypad and waited for the doors to hiss open. Once they did, he shoved the Neutral femme in ahead of him and watched with dispassioned optics as she lay sprawled across the floor. He stepped in after her, the doors sliding closed with a small _hiss._ He watched as she hurriedly crawled away from him and once again curled up into a small metallic ball in his quarter's far corner. It was the first time he was able to get a good look at her. She was a small femme, coming no higher than the top of his cockpit. Her armor was mostly a deep shade of metallic blue with delicate silver pinstripes running the length of her arms and legs. Her wings folded down her back, unlike his which swept upwards. Her helm appeared to be a much finer version of his own, more rounded with softer edges. Her face was small and delicately cut and her optics were a much lighter shade of blue than most other Cybertronians he had seen, perhaps it was just the way they appeared against that darker armor. Overall, she wasn't a bad-looking femme by any degree—maybe…maybe just this once…

Angrily he shook his head to clear his processor of such thoughts. He growled lowly to himself, dismissing them as quickly as they came. No, he wouldn't succumb to the temptation; he was above such an abhorrent act, Decepticon though he was. He walked across the room, opposite of the femme, his thrustered heels making distinctive clicking noises as he moved. He sat down at a small work desk and began to finish the reports Starscream had assigned him earlier.

Some time passed, about five breems to be exact, before Thundercracker heard a slight shuffling coming from the far end of the room. His optics flitted briefly to the corner to see what the femme was up to. She had changed her position somewhat, probably due to her actuators stiffening up from being held in the same position. She sat with her knee joints pulled up to her cockpit, arms locked around her legs. She had that timid, questioning look in her blue optics once again. He waited patiently for the question that he knew was sure to come.

Sure enough after another two breems of silence, a timorous voice broke the thick silence. "What is going to happen to me and my sister?"

The blue mech let the question hang in the air as he searched for the best way to respond to her inquiry. Slag it! He should have known this kind of question was going to be raised sooner or later. He sighed heavily before replying, "Nothing is going to happen to you. I'm not interested in torturing you or putting you through any more misery than you've already bore witness to. I can't really say the same for your sister."

Her crestfallen features deepened and he saw the glimmer of fluid turn one optic into a glistening pool of blue. He huffed in annoyance. "Look. Your sister will be fine. She's with Skywarp. He may rough her up a little, but he won't injure her or kill her. Contradictory to what you may hear, there are still a few of us that respect the old rules of engagement." With those words, the femme looked at him directly in the optics for the first time since leaving the command center. An uncomfortable silence ensued. After five breems of intense quiet and staring (on the femme's part), the blue Seeker finally chose to be the first to break the stalemate. "What's your name, femme?" he asked, standing to his feet and approaching his berth.

She shrank back against the wall as he stood, but never broke eye contact with him. "Vortica. My designation is Vortica."

"They call me…"

"Thundercracker. Yes, I k-know," she interrupted hesitantly. "I overheard that other mech call you by name."

He nodded his head in understanding before turning his attention to the berth. It suddenly seemed…much less welcoming than usual…Thundercracker growled irritably. No, he wouldn't do it! But how long had it been since he laid with a beautiful femme? 100 vorns? 300 vorns?

He placed his black hands on the side of the berth and tried to banish those licentious thoughts from his processor. He would not yield! He released a slow, deliberate gust of air before slowly turning his head to stare at the femme.

She shifted uncomfortably under his indiscernible gaze. Her light blue optics darted back and forth nervously. He didn't seem to want to hurt her. Sure, he had been gruff and more than a little brusque with her, but this mysterious blue flyer hadn't regarded her in the same way as the others had; he seemed almost respectful? In all honesty he wasn't a bad-looking mech, especially for a flyer. All the flyers she had ever known were large cargo transports—bulky, boxy transporters of consumer goods or the occasional contraband shipments. But this mech was sleek, powerful. His wings were broad, but thin, built for slicing through the atmosphere at high speeds. The fearsome arm cannons mounted to his upper arms and his overall bearing left no doubt that this machine was a formidable soldier of war.

She had heard rumors of Megatron's Seekers, but never had the misfortune of seeing one of them, until now, albeit much more up close and personal than she would have preferred. But Thundercracker didn't seem like the cruel, sparkless rogue so many of the citizens had said them to be. Was it possible? Certainly, but since he had intervened during the "Claiming" Process, he had done nothing to hurt her or indicate he was going to hurt her. There was something different about him…something distant, reluctant even…

A sharp motion drew her attention away from her musings. She looked up sharply to see Thundercracker motioning for her to come to him. Oh, no! It was a façade! Maybe he was going to harm her after all! He certainly would if she didn't obey. With a trembling effort, the tiny flyer rose to her feet. She kept her optics focused on the floor, not wanting to see the longing in his optics.

Sooner than she liked, Vortica found herself standing directly in front of the Seeker, her entire frame shaking with fear and apprehension.

"You will be recharging here tonight," the blue mech rumbled in that deep, baritone voice.

She felt large, powerful hands wrap around her lower torso. Vortica nearly shrieked in fright, but restrained herself for fear he would strike her. But instead of being thrown onto the recharging berth like she expected, Vortica felt herself being lifted gently, like a sparkling or a fine piece of glass. The Seeker sat her on the edge of the berth and then turned and made his way to the corner she had previously occupied.

She stared at his retreating wings, bewildered by his actions. He was giving her his berth to sleep on? But why? Once again her rebellious lips uttered a question her processor failed to catch in time.

"Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer, just slumped against the wall and slid down its length until he sat on the cold floor, arms draped over his knee joints, helm resting on his arms.

She huffed determinedly and asked again, "I said 'why are you doing this?'"

"Go to sleep, femme," came the tired reply.

"Not until you answer my question!" She slapped her hands over her mouth, realizing her mistake as he raised his helm and glared at her with narrowed, red optics.

"Don't ask questions you'll dread the answers to," he growled.

"I'm sorry," she apologized hurriedly, "I-I didn't mean to…I-It's just that…I-I'm confused as to why you're being so nice to me, not that I don't like it! I mean, I do, but…but…oh, Primus, I'm gonna shut up now." She off-lined her optics and stared at the floor.

Thundercracker chuckled tiredly in spite of himself. "So I confuse you, do I, femme?"

She didn't answer immediately; she was trying to prevent the slight, rosy hue from showing through in her optics. "Well…yes, I-I suppose…so," she offered hesitantly. She waited tensely for his charge, for that yell of rage that would be the beginning of the end of her life—but it never came.

"Well, you're not the first and you won't be the last."

That was not the answer she was expecting, instead it only served to pique her curiosity even more about her unusual captor. "W-Why do you say that?" she asked timidly, adjusting her chassis so she could sit cross-legged and face him.

Thundercracker chuckled again. She was quite a curious thing. "As I said before, there are still some of us Decepticons that follow the old rules of engagement; it makes us…an oddity among the ranks."

She offered him a very shy smile. "Well, if it would make you feel better, I'm considered an oddity too." _Primus! _What was she thinking! Trying to make him feel better!? He was the enemy, her captor; she shouldn't be trying to make him feel better! She should be trying to escape! But he seemed so…weary, so…forlorn…much like she had felt earlier.

She watched his optics glow a little brighter, the corner of his right lip edging upwards ever so slightly. "It wouldn't be because you are a flyer, now would it?" he asked drolly; he already knew the answer to that question.

"Can't fool you, can I?" she shot back in turn, her blue optics losing their fear for the first time that night.

Thundercracker gave the femme a small smile. She was opening up to him. It was something he wasn't quite expecting. It felt good to be having a normal conversation that didn't involve battle strategies, strafing runs, or death counts. It was relieving, refreshing.

"When was your first flight?" he asked gently, somewhat interested in hearing her answer. But Vortica's reaction was quite unexpected. Her optics fell and her shoulders slumped; the little spark of life disappeared as quickly as it came.

"I…I haven't."

"You _what?" _he asked sharply, then upon seeing his mistake as she cringed back, he asked more softly, "You haven't flown at all?"

She shook her head quickly.

He stood up then and slowly made his way back to the berth. Her optics grew wide with fear once more as he approached her figure. He crouched down onto his heels and faced her, a concerned look on his faceplates. "Why have you not flown, Vortica?"

A tiny shiver ran down her spinal relays as he spoke her name. That voice of his…Primus! It was so…captivating…

_He's not going to hurt me. He's not going to hurt me. If he was, he would have done so a long time ago._ "Since the War began, my village had outlawed flying. My sister and I were sparked before the War, but did not receive our final upgrade until after the War was underway. We were forbidden to fly. Our creators feared that if word got around we were flyers, then both factions would raze the town in an effort to swipe us up into their ranks or worse…" she trailed off, hesitantly meeting his optics.

Thundercracker listened with interest. Going by what she had said already, this femme was only a few thousand years younger than he was and yet he had been flying for thousands of vorns before the War. He couldn't remember what it was like not to fly! And here was a flyer who had never tasted that sweet nectar of freedom!? "Please. Continue," he urged.

"Well, our creators kept us hidden within their basement once we received our last upgrades. They would take care us, bring us energon when we needed it and datapads to read, but we felt so…so…"

"Confined," he offered. Vortica nodded her head vigorously. "Yes! It felt awful being cooped up in that hole, unable to run or stretch or even attempt to fly." She paused briefly. "I hated it. They said it was for our own good, that we would be safe. But sometimes I wondered if it would be worth the risk. It wasn't too much longer after our confinement that you guys attacked." She shivered unconsciously. "The building collapsed…and the walls! The walls just seemed to close in! We yelled for help until our vocalizers fizzed into static, but when help finally did arrive…" she trailed off, leaving Thundercracker to draw the final conclusion.

Optic fluid began to pool in her misty blue eyes and a silent sob escaped her lips. Suddenly, Vortica felt those two powerful hands clasp around her shoulder vents. She tensed in alarm, but one look in those blood red optics, for some reason, eased her fears.

"Listen to me, Vortica," Thundercracker began, "I will get you out of here, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

She looked at him—hope, fear, and mistrust all converging and mixing feverishly within those blue depths. "Why?" she whispered.

He didn't answer her at first. What could he say? He wanted to take her, to claim her sweet, tender innocence for his own, the deep, primeval longing surging up and into his spark, but he also wanted to free her, to show her the wonders of flight and the gift that Primus had given her. And he wanted to be the one to do it. After a long pause, he answered her.

"How badly do you want to learn how to fly?"


	2. The Reclaiming

**A/N: Wow guys! I feel really honored right now; I wasn't expecting this much feedback for this story, but I'm dearly glad ya'll are enjoying it. So by popular request, I'm extending this one just a bit. I won't say how long it'll be, but it will be longer than it was originally intended. Thanks for all those awesome reviews!**

**Chapter 2: The Reclaiming**

"_**One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it." Master Ooguay**_

Her cooling fans hitched within her intakes, the steady thrum hesitating ever so slightly. Her periwinkle blue optics were still glimmering with the remnants of optical fluid and possibly hope. When she spoke only the slightest whisper of sound escaped her lip components.

"Don't you realize how cruel it is to play with a femme's spark?"

"Am I being cruel?" he said, stepping closer and tightening his grip just a little. He leaned his head down until they were almost optic to optic. She shrank back from his proximity, but not nearly as violently as he expected. She diverted her optics from his intense stare. With a surprisingly gentle touch, Thundercracker reached a black hand under her delicately built chin and lifted her face close to his. Oh, he was so close! Just millimeters from claiming those perfectly formed lips. His spark felt as if it were going to vibrate clean out of his chest compartment, its song was singing so plaintively, so longingly. Oh, it had been so long! Far too long since he had touched the curvature of a femme's derma plating, too long since he had ran his fingers over and through the delicate wiring on their chassis, far too long since he felt another's warmth spread across his armature as he held them close within his arms. But still he refused.

"Am I?" he repeated softly once more. "You do not deserve to be here and you especially do not deserve the treatment from my fellow soldiers…"

"_I_ don't deserve to be here!?" she exclaimed suddenly, jerking from his touch and knocking his hand away. "_I don't deserve to be here!? _What about the other seventeen femmes who were yanked from their homes, from their loved ones!? What about my _sister!? _You say I don't deserve this, but did any of them deserve it as well!? Did any of the young mechs deserve to be forced to fight for an army they wanted nothing to do with!? We were neutrals, for Primus's sake! We didn't want any part of your war, any part of you period! But you came anyway. You came and you destroyed everything we have ever known and loved! Your right, I don't deserve to be here! None of us do!" She placed her comparatively tiny hands on his cockpit and shoved him away forcefully, jumping down from his berth and landing lithely on her thrusters. She stormed back over to the far corner and sank to the floor. He watched as she pulled her knee joints close to her chassis and rested her helm on the top.

Thundercracker stood stunned. Her outbreak had been completely and totally unexpected. He stared at her folded form for several astroseconds, allowing the depth of her words to fully sink into his processor. She was right. Her words rang as clear as an air siren during the approach of a solar windstorm. He had never been a mech good with words, as was Starscream, nor could he woo the opposite gender as silkily as Skywarp. But Thundercracker was a mech that had become especially attuned to reading the reactions of others and determining their true feelings and inner character. She was scared, frightened. That much was plainly evident. He knew her words were not directed at him per say, but all the fighting in general. In that short, violent outbreak of pure anguish she had shown him a small flicker of her inner self, a tiny spark of courage that, like a shooting star, he had caught a glimpse of it before it quickly disappeared. Had he been any other Decepticon, the femme flyer would have been a lifeless shell for speaking out in such a manner. But he wasn't just any Decepticon. Her words had cut deeply into his spark and only served to water the tiny seeds of doubt as to his place in this Primus-damned war.

He shuttered his optics. Then, refocusing them once more, he strode back over to the femme's corner. Her wings were visibly vibrating, in fact he was mildly surprised that her whole frame had not vibrated itself apart she was shaking and sobbing so badly. The air would catch in her vents, creating a tiny _hic_ sound and Thundercracker could plainly hear the furious thrumming from her cooling fans. He stepped directly behind her, the hollow _thwocks_ made by his thrusters echoing within his quarters.

"Please…if you're going to kill me…"

"I'm not going to kill you," he cut in. He reached down and pulled the crying femme from the floor. She squeaked in protest and began to struggle, beating her fists against his chest with all her might. It had about as much of an effect on him as a feather duster. He gripped her wrists, one in each hand, and then pinned her to the wall. He arms were stretched high above her helm; she was forced to stand on the very tips of her toes. Realizing her struggling was useless, Vortica resigned herself to tiny whimperings; she refused to beg, but that didn't mean she wasn't afraid to die. She felt him press against her, felt the strength in his arms and hands as he pinned her to the wall. This was it. She had spoken her piece and now she was going to pay for it with her life. She had hoped he was different; she had hoped he wasn't the cruel, merciless flying terror everyone had made him out to be. It appeared she was wrong. She off-lined her optics and pressed her chin into her chest waiting for it all to end. But it never came.

Instead, she felt something brush her lips; a gentle, whispering tease of a touch that made her recoil, not from disgust or fear, but from surprise. It came again, this time lingering just a little longer. This time she didn't pull away, but hesitantly returned the favor, not entirely sure why her body was betraying her mind. He was the enemy! He was the reason her home had been destroyed, her separation from her sister; he was the reason that right now her body tingled from head to thrusters—a delightful, spine-tingling shiver that made all her worries and fears melt into a peaceful abyss. She felt him press closer, shoving her tightly against the wall. She also felt a deep, stirring warmth emanating from his cockpit. A warmth that only made her want to press against him in return, her body savoring its contagious touch. Finally, she broke down, her body going limp against him as she began to return Thundercracker's kiss with passion. She vaguely remembered him releasing her wrists. She faintly recalled his arms reaching around her back to pull her closely against him in a tight, almost possessive embrace and Vortica barely recollected his fingers brushing down her wings with a touch as soft as a polishing cloth.

Thundercracker had her right where he wanted. The waves of emotion washing over him had been too much to bear. He felt disgust for himself, longing, loathing, sadness, lust and determination all swell and boil within his spark like a cauldron of hot boiling water. He wanted to make her feel better, but he also wanted to satisfy his own desires as well. He had to attempt it; if she refused him, then he would not push her, but if she didn't…

When he had pulled her to her feet, she had struggled and fought as if her life depended on it. To her he supposed it did. Pinning her wrists above her head, Thundercracker now had access to the desire his spark had been longing for since they reached his quarters. He literally felt the fear wash over her chassis like a pelting rain; he felt her quivering violently as she waited for her end to begin. He wanted to make it stop, he wanted Vortica to know she wasn't alone in her suffering, that she had someone to rely on. Ever so gently, he brushed his lips against hers; he pulled back waiting to gauge her response. She jerked as if he had electrocuted her, but quite surprisingly, her whimperings died away and her shaking began to cease. Could it be? Was it too good to be true? He leaned down once more, lingering over her lips like a soft, summer cloud. At first, nothing happened and he was about to pull away and release her when he felt it-- a gentle, quivering pressure on his own lips. Ecstasy and passion raced through his fuel lines as realization struck the processor. She was willing! She was willing to let him comfort her! She was willing to let him hold her and kiss her, to relinquish all barriers and lose herself to his embrace. He pushed her into the wall and hungrily searched out her mouth for another kiss. His spark was flaring up within his chest, the heat and energy was sure to be equivalent to a gas-giant going supernova. Next, Thundercracker felt her body go limp against his, her will readily weakening in the wake of his lust. He released her wrists in order to draw her closer to him; he wanted to feel every inch of her plating. Hungry fingers brushed the smooth, silky finish on her beautiful indigo wings, black servos gingerly tracing the finely painted pinstripes on their surface.

Their kiss lasted several long moments, each receiving in turn what the other desired most. Vortica longed for a companion, someone who understood her plight and could provide a shoulder to lean on. Thundercracker desired companionship as well, although maybe not quite the same companionship as she desired. He wanted to satisfy the tortuous longing within his spark without offending the deeply rooted morality that his processor had been cursed with. In the stress of the current situation, both found what they desired and both were savoring every astrosecond.

Gently breaking away, Thundercracker once more was able to gaze into those blue depths. Never had he seen so much life, so much hope. There was also something else too. Something that had not been present, since he first laid optics on her—trust. Vortica reluctantly looked up into Thundercracker's crimson gaze. What she saw surprised her and made her spark hum with joy. Within those crimson eyes she saw understanding, understanding that she was not alone in this war, that she was not the only reluctant participant on this grand stage. She also saw the longing, but it did not make her fearful as it would have before…before she realized she could trust this blue demon of the sky. She gave him a soft, timid smile and then laid her helm just under his left intake, allowing a soft sigh to escape her own.

He smiled warmly down at her before scooping her up in his powerful arms and walking back towards his berth. An odd thought crossed his processor as he laid Vortica down on the far side of the massive, flat recharging station: perhaps he wasn't going to need Skywarp's help after all.

* * *

Vortica on-lined her optics very slowly the next cycle. She waited patiently as her processor ran the various programs to boot her bodily systems. In the meantime, she busied herself with shuffling through her memory files, reliving the events that occurred not quite half an orn ago. Were they not safely stored within her processor, Vortica could easily imagine her night with Thundercracker had been too good to be true, but the evidence was there, one wondrous memory file after another. She had been quite nervous at first; she had never bonded with another before. Her spark had still been pure and untouched. But Thundercracker's gentle, calming touch and his deep, soothing voice had swiftly allayed any fears that had clouded her processor.

She checked her diagnostics and saw that all her systems were functioning normally. Idly she glanced to the right to see if the blue Seeker were still resting by her side. He wasn't. Vortica bolted upright, her optics bright with concern. She scanned the room, but there was no sign of departure or any indication of return. Timidly she scooted to the edge of the berth in preparation to jump from its edge, but the sudden _hiss_ from the doorway made her freeze in panic.

The door slid back to reveal Thundercracker's intimidating silhouette filling the frame. A small sigh of relief escaped her vents as he stepped through the portal, the door sealing shut behind him. So he hadn't abandoned her after all. He walked over to the small desk and placed two cubes of pink, viscous energon on its surface, casting Vortica an expectant glance as he passed. Hesitantly she slid off the berth and walked to the desk, taking the energon he offered her.

"I apologize for not being here when you woke. Commander Starscream required my reports early today," he said, taking a sip from his cube.

Vortica eyed her cube hungrily; it had been almost a two orns since she had refilled her tanks.

"Go on," she heard Thundercracker urge. He motioned with his own cube for her to drink. "You'll need every bit of strength you can muster. I was fortunate to sneak you a cube at all. It is not a common practice to fuel…prisoners." He spoke the last word with bitterness, as if the very word itself were hydraulic fluid in his mouth.

"Tha-Thank you," she replied, taking a small sip. She ran her glossa over her lips and savored the tart taste. Throwing manners to the wind, she began to guzzle the cube down, tilting her head back to retrieve every last drop. Thundercracker looked on with amusement twinkling in his coal fire optics, a slight smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. He took another drought from his cube to hide the smirk threatening to break completely through on his normally-serious faceplates.

The previous night had been one like no other. Together, the two of them had shared a passion that few had experienced, especially consensually. His respect for the femme had only deepened, his resolve to free her from this wretched bondage only strengthened. As he had held her in his arms, allowing their sparks to caress each other in that indefinable state of passion, he vowed to himself that she would escape, that she would live through this nightmare from the Pit. But it would be a perilous vow to uphold in the coming cycles. At least this one act would have meaning over all the previous, empty and pointless acts he had committed throughout his career as a soldier.

When she had finished, Vortica placed the cube back onto the desk and watched Thundercracker expectantly. He continued to drink his cube in silence, although his optics never left her form. He watched amusedly as her optics began to turn a soft violet hue due to blushing. Finally she spoke, unable to keep the silence any longer.

"I wanted to thank you."

"You already have."

"No, I mean for…for last night. It…it was very…very…I can't describe it," she ended finally, turning her back to him as if she had said something offensive. Thundercracker placed his half-finished cube on the desk and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her torso and then leaned down between her wing and her neck, his lips just brushing her plating.

"You don't have to. I understand."

Vortica nodded her head. She sighed contently and leaned into his embrace, finding a deep comfort in his powerful arms. The fearsome cannons on his arms that glinted in the dim light would have once instilled fear within her, but now they were a silent comfort. She rested her helm against his turbines and slowly drank in his quiet, overpowering presence.

"I must leave you today," he said drawing away momentarily.

She nodded her head once again. It was pointless to ask why. "When will you return?"

"I can't give you a definite time, but it's only a scouting mission; it shouldn't take longer than a few joors. Stay in here until I return."

"Like I really would want to go anywhere else," she replied acerbically, earning her a tight squeeze before he released her. Their playful teasing was cut short however when a slight buzzing filled his helm. Thundercracker turned towards the door, a reluctant frown on his faceplates. Starscream was summoning him. He turned once more to Vortica.

"Do not open the door for anyone. Skywarp and Starscream are the only other ones allowed within my quarters. Skywarp will teleport in as he sees fit and Starscream, being my Commander, has my access codes. Seeing as they are flyers as well, they will not trouble you, besides, I'll be with them on this mission so you won't have to worry about that until I return." He directed his attention once more to the door. "I must leave you now." He had almost made it through the portal, when he felt a slight tug on his trailing arm. He turned one last time to look at the plaintive femme, a questioning look in his optics.

"Please, my sister…"

He placed one black finger across her lips, silencing any further words. His optics told her everything she needed to know, that he understood her unspoken request; she quietly backed back into the room, a woe-be-gone expression on her faceplates. As the door hissed to a close, Vortica walked back over to the recharge berth and lay upon its surface; she powered down her systems in an attempt to conserve her strength and then resigned herself to a very long wait.

Unfortunately for both of the newly-sparked lovers, a lone gargantuan figure had hidden himself at the end of one of the halls, patiently waiting for the Seeker's exodus. He watched the two flyers exchange a silent message; saw the reluctance on both of their faceplates. Anger and revulsion flashing across his countenance at such a disgusting display. As the Seeker lieutenant made his way down the opposite hall, no one saw the glint of pure malice flicker across the optics of the Stunticon leader. No one saw the massive semi make his way towards the Seeker's quarters, undetected, undeterred.

An evil, hateful smile pulled at his lip components as he whispered ever so silently, "Time to claim what was rightfully mine, Seeker," He then raised his mighty fists to beat down the door.


	3. The Reckoning

**A/N: A bit shorter than normal, but it seemed to be a good place to leave off. As they say, "birds of a feather flock together." I hope everyone enjoyed the new movie! Had some pros had some cons, but overall highly enjoyable. Thanks everyone; this story's for you!**

**Chapter Three: The Reckoning**

Vortica had just slipped back into a peaceful recharge when a horrible, obnoxious pounding began to ring in her audios. She on-lined her optics and bolted upright, fear immediately settling into her spark. Thundercracker had said not to open the door for anyone other than his wingmates and even they would enter by use of access codes or in Skywarp's case, teleportation. Whoever was pounding on the door now, definitely wasn't any of those three.

She cringed as a large dent appeared on the door's solid build, a large gap appearing between the frame and the door itself. And then she heard the voice, that horrible anger-riddled voice that had first promised to rip her wings from her frame before she had even tasted the miracle of flight.

"Knock! Knock! Femme!"

Vortica leaped from the berth and ran to the corner, her back pressed firmly against the wall. Her entire frame trembled with fright and a few not-so pleasant thoughts flitted across her processor at what would happen when Motormaster would break his way into the quarters. As the beating against the door grew more insistent and the barrier itself was slowly crumpling under the assault, Vortica thought about her life and her sister and just how little she had experienced in her existence. She thought of Thundercracker especially, and how the blue, winged mech had shown her that even Decepticons could be more than met the eye.

In that instant Vortica reached a reckoning. She was tired of living in fear from breem to breem, cycle to cycle; she was tired of others making decisions for her and her input and her say didn't amount to a pile of rust, and she was especially tired of having anything near and dear to her ripped from her servos just as everything seemed to be going all right. She raised her chin and set her wings; even her optics took on a frosty glow.

The door was almost obliterated.

Vortica glanced around the room, her optics surveying anything and everything that might hold an element of usefulness.

"I'm coming, femme! You're winged knight in shining armor can't help you now!" Evil laughter vibrated the remnants of the door.

Finally, her optics alighted on Thundercracker's desk. A small cylindrical object lay upon the flat surface—a laser scalpel! Thundercracker must have used it to perform minor repair work on his armor. It wasn't much, but it was better than being helpless. Vortica dashed across the room, her light grey thrusters flinging a shower of orange and yellow sparks with each and every step. She grabbed the scalpel in a silver hand and pressed her slender frame against the wall beside the door. Her optics became as cold as ice and even the slight tremble that had plagued her chassis subsided.

With a mighty crash the door to Thundercracker's quarters was kicked in, a crumpled piece of scrapmetal. Motormaster ducked through the frame, his optics bright with anticipation and lust. "Where are you, femme!?" he roared upon seeing the empty room.

"Here! You son of a glitch!" Vortica shouted angrily. She leaped upon the Stunticon's exposed back and drove the laser scalpel deep between his shoulder joints.

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!"

Motormaster reached a powerful hand up behind his back to grab the femme, but Vortica was much too quick for him. She dug her thrustered heels into his lower back plating and pushed off—hard. The force of the push sent the Stunticon leader sprawling face-first into the floor. Using the momentum from her impromptu spring board, Vortica launched herself out into the hallway and landed lithely on her feet. She wasted no time turning on her heels and sprinting down the base's corridors as fast as her thrusters could carry her. Behind her, an angry pain-ridden bellow reverberated through the corridor. She didn't dare look back.

Her cooling fans were humming madly and she was drawing in air as fast as her intakes would allow. She had no idea where to go or where she was heading; the only thought she had was to get away from that deranged mech. The worst thing was Thundercracker was still out on patrol and the chances of her being recaptured by Motormaster or some other Con were greater than escape. But no, she wouldn't think of that now. Couldn't think of that now.

She quickly turned a corner, left wingtip clipping the edge as she slid on her thrusters. Somewhere behind her, her audios began to pick up the thunderous footsteps of pursuit. She felt her spark beat skip a little, the air in her intakes hitched erratically as she realized he was gaining on her.

Energon coursed through her fuel lines with renewed vigor, her legs pumped harder and harder as Vortica fought to put more distance between herself and the enraged Stunticon. Another corner appeared and the fleeing femme quickly whipped around its edge. Suddenly, Vortica found herself sprawled across the floor, her flight having met quite harshly with a temporary resistance. With wide frightened optics she looked to see just whom she had collided with. Wings trailing down the legs, thrusters…these were the first things her optics analyzed, but none of them matched Thundercracker's make. Tall, pointed, cone-like helms with shrouded, vermillion optics glared down upon her harshly.

She squeaked as one of the mechs grasped her around the neck with a dark grey hand and lifted her quivering frame off the floor.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Ramjet asked his comrades. "What's a pretty little femme like you running around in a place like this?" He pulled Vortica closer to his narrowed optics. She didn't answer, actually couldn't answer since Ramjet's hand was squeezing her vocalizer shut. Her optics darted over her shoulder.

"And look, she's a flyer too. Didn't that rustbucket Skywarp claim a femme flyer?" Thrust asked.

"Yeah, but she was blue and gold. This one is blue and silver," Dirge answered, fingering her finely painted silver-striped wings. She flinched at the touch and struggled against Ramjet's grip, her silver fingers leaving paint transfers across the Conehead's thick wrist.

"Who claimed you, femme?" Ramjet demanded, giving Vortica a "gentle" shake. Sizzling static escaped her vocalizer as she tried to respond, but couldn't.

"Ramjet! You moron! You have to let go of her neck if you want her to answer properly!" Dirge snapped, swatting his wingmate upside the head. The blow caused the grey and red flyer to release his grip and Vortica found herself once again sprawled across the floor. Something hard and unforgiving clamped over her shoulder and yanked her back onto her feet.

"Now then, who claimed you femme?" Dirge repeated the question, squeezing Vortica's shoulder tighter and tighter with each passing astrosecond.

"Aaahh! Thu-Thunder…cracker claimed me!" she gasped, trying her best to wriggle out from under the painful grip. Just then, a loud bellow echoed throughout the corridors.

"That sounded like Motormaster," Thrust commented as all four glanced back down the corridor.

"Yeah, and he sounds pretty fragged."

"When isn't that dust-eater fragged off at someone?" The three Coneheads shared a chuckle.

"Please, he's after me! Please, let me go! I would rather off-line than let that monster get his servos on me!" Vortica pleaded vehemently. She had a pretty good feeling these three wouldn't listen to her, but she hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, with these mechs being flyers as well, they wouldn't allow her to fall into that demented semi's clutches.

"After you!?" The three coneheaded Seekers exchanged looks and then laughed softly. Dirge lifted Vortica up and placed her behind him. Her optics widened with curiosity and fear. "If some groundpounder had claimed you, we would take you right now," he growled huskily, "but since that glitchheaded slagheap Thundercracker got to you first, we're gonna let you slide. As much as we hate that sorry excuse for a Decepticon, we hate dusteaters more. Now, get outta of here! If we catch you again, there will be no second chances!" He gave her a forceful shove that almost sent her sprawling out into the floor. She regained her footing and quickly dashed down the corridor, throwing a baffled look over her shoulder as she fled.

Thrust and Ramjet looked at Dirge curiously as he shoved the femme away. "Why'd you do that!? Do you know how long it's been since I've had a good overload?" Thrust groused.

"Yeah, well it's going to be a bit longer. That's Thundercraphead's femme and I really don't want to get involved in another "discussion" of who-claimed-who-first like we did last time with Skywarp," Dirge snarled, "I'm still pounding out dents from that one!"

"So why's Motorbreath chasing her?" Ramjet challenged.

"Who knows and who cares. All I care about is giving him as much grief as possible." Dirge shrugged. "Besides, I agree with the femme. I'd off-line myself too before letting that lughead get his servos on me."

"Still no reason to let something _like that_ out of our sight!" Thrust countered.

"You remember what Megatron decreed! First-come, first serve! Now drop it! Here comes, Boltbreath," Dirge growled, as the pounding of footsteps grew louder and louder. The three flyers positioned themselves against the wall, Thrust and Dirge on one side, Ramjet on the other. Not much longer after that, Motormaster stormed around the corner, his faceplates set in a murderous scowl.

"WHERE IS SHE?" he bellowed angrily, whirling on Ramjet.

"Where's who?" Thrust asked innocently, although his optics portrayed anything but innocence.

"Don't play games with me, you walking pile of reject parts! I know she came this way! Now what did you do with her?!"

"Why should we tell you?" Dirge challenged. He ducked just in time to dodge a massive right hook to his faceplates. Motormaster's fist collided with the wall, punching straight through the hard, Cybertronian alloy. Motormaster roared in fury and yanked his hand from the wall a murderous gleam in his ruby optics, but the Coneheads were already making their way down the corridor.

"Find her yourself, Motormaster! We won't get involved in your and Thundercracker's squabble!" Ramjet called over his shoulder as the Coneheads disappeared around the bend that Motormaster had just come. Still seething in rage, the Stunticon decided to deal with the arrogant flyers later, his first priority to lay claim on what had been stolen from him. He continued down the hallway, a slow dribbling trail of energon from the wound in his back leaving the only indication of his passing.

Vortica quickly dashed through an open doorway on her right, unknowingly fleeing right into the middle of the Decepticon recreation hall. However, fortunately for her, there were only three mechs currently occupying the room. She slid to a halt, sparks flying from her thrusters as she came to a sudden stop. She glanced fearfully behind her and then directed her attention back to the three massive mechs who were studying her curiously.

"What the slag!?" Astrotrain exclaimed, rising from his seat and approaching Vortica. Blitzwing and Octane followed suit. She took a small step backward until she remembered just who was chasing her. If she thought Thundercracker or Motormaster was tall, then these three made them look short in comparison. Before she could react, she was encircled by the three massive mechs, their simmering ruby lenses boring into her frame.

"And just what do you think you are doing, femme?" Octane asked, amusement written plainly across his faceplates. Before Vortica could answer the question, Motormaster appeared in the doorway.

"That femme belongs to me!" he said, voice dangerously low. He began reaching for Vortica's metallic blue wing but was abruptly stopped by Astrotrain's bulk when the triple changer stepped forward.

"Oh really? Is that so?" Astrotrain replied, just the faintest hint of mockery in his voice. "Do you belong to him, femme?"

Vortica timidly shook her head. "There. Good enough for me. Now get lost, Motorhead!" the space shuttle snarled.

"Since when did you take the word of a slave over that of another Decepticon!?" the semi roared angrily, stepping closer to Astrotrain. He was almost two heads shorter than the triple changer, but no less dangerous should things boil down to a street brawl. He himself was massive in his own right, but compared to the triple changers he was a lightweight, both an advantage and a disadvantage.

"Rumor has it this one was claimed by one of the Command Trine. You're not seriously thinking of going against them are you, Motormaster?" Blitzwing queried, cocking his head to one side.

"I claimed her first! That glitch-headed, flying slagheap stole her from me! Now move your aft before I do it for you!"

Together the three triple changers moved to stand directly before the Stunticon, arms crossed over their massive chests. "We'd like to see you try." Octane smirked cockily. Motormaster's visage darkened considerably. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he wasn't stupid either. Even he knew that 3-1odds was pushing the limit. However, his optics flitted behind the three mechs and a cruel sneer pulled on his lip components.

"All right. You win for now, but the game is not yet over." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"What did he mean by that?" Octane asked.

"Who knows," Astrotrain replied, shrugging his shoulders. He turned around. "Now as for you…" but he never finished the sentence. His optics landed on the spot where Vortica had been. "Where the slag did she go?"

"One guess," Blitzwing answered, pointing out the rear exit of the rec room.

"Well, frag! Let's go hunt her down before Slag-for-Brains gets his filthy servos on her," the space shuttle grumbled irritably. He and Blitzwing quickly took off in the direction that Vortica had fled, however, Octane lagged behind. He quickly pinged an encoded message to a certain Air Commander before quickly following in his comrade's wake.

Vortica continued her flight until she saw a dark opening on her left. It was a doorway of some sort. Without a second thought, she dashed through the frame, casting a frightened glance over her shoulder as she went. Motormaster had just entered the corridor she vacated. For the second time that evening, Vortica collided into another metal mass. With a loud _oomph!_ She fell on her aft, momentarily dazed by the collision. She shook her helm to try and clear her thoughts. Suddenly a loud, booming voice filled her audios and Vortica felt her spark freeze over.

"_What is the meaning of this!?"_

Her terrified optics slowly raised and she tilted her head back as far as her neck circuits would allow, pure, unadulterated terror commandeering her frame. It was Megatron. Next her optics darted around the room taking in all the computers, the screens, and consoles—she had run right smack dab into the middle of the Decepticon Command Center.

A flourish of footfalls shook the floor upon which she sat. She glanced fearfully over her wing and saw not only Motormaster behind her but the three mechs from the rec room as well. She felt a powerful hand clamp down behind her neck and pick her up off the floor. Megatron pulled her close to his optics; they slanted dangerously; Vortica thought she could almost feel the death glare radiating from his stare. She off-lined her optics and quietly waited for the final blow. But it never came; instead she felt Megatron set her down on her feet and heard him demand, "Which one of you walking malfunctions would care to tell me what in Primus' name is going on here!?"

It seemed Murphy's Law was a universal given.


	4. The Unveiling

**A/N: Wow, six months! Sorry for the delay, ya'll, but major writer's block, reality intervention and all that jazz; you know how it is. Anyways, an extra-long chapter for your enjoyment; think of it as a belated Christmas present! This is my first foray into more "intimate" TF writings so please go easy on me. For the record, this chapter is "M"-rated so don't read if you're not supposed to; you have been warned. Now, with all that said—ENJOY!**

**Chapter Four: The Unveiling**

"Well? I'm waiting," the warlord rumbled. His optics narrowed into slits and if it were feasibly possible, the four mechs before him would have probably melted into four puddles of Cybertronian alloy, Megatron's gaze was so heated.

"Me-Megatron, sir," Astrotrain sputtered, backing up a few steps and bumping into Blitzwing and Octane in the process. The three of them shuffled around uncomfortably, jostling their wings and scuffing the floor.

Megatron then directed his hellfire gaze on Motormaster. It was a good thing that Cybertronian armor wasn't combustible. He glanced at Vortica, who appeared to be trying to blend into the floor, and then back at the Stunticon. "Motormaster, I suspect that you're behind this," Megatron growled. "Care to explain yourself?"

At first Motormaster appeared to be cowed by Megatron's glare but then he glanced over at the femme and his facial plates hardened. "Megatron, you know I am not a soldier that normally questions your authority or your decisions, but that femme rightfully belongs to me. I claimed her first."

Megatron stroked his chin thoughtfully as he mulled over the Stunticon's words. "I thought we settled this matter by way of seniority, Motormaster," he growled, a very subtle warning buried in his tone.

"I know that, Sir, but I want to challenge Thundercracker's claim."

"You do, do you?" Megatron asked with faux innocence, a strange glow appearing in his optics.

"Yes, I do," Motormaster growled optics focused keenly on Vortica. She could feel the hatred in his gaze and although she wanted nothing more than to find the deepest, darkest hole on Cybertron and crawl in, she didn't break eye contact with her tormentor. No, she bested him once and she would do it again.

"There have been plenty of femmes before and there will be plenty of femmes for your pleasure after our conquest," Megatron began, that glint still in his optics, "What makes this one any different?"

Even one as dense as Motormaster saw and recognized the meaning in Megatron's optics. He was treading on dangerous ground and he knew it. "All I ask Megatron, sir, is a chance to settle this matter between me and Thundercracker…just the two of us."

It seemed as if time had frozen within the Command Center as everyone waited for Megatron's reply, but the loud clatter of thrustered heels broke the temporary spell of silence. Astrocliks later, Starscream and his trine shoved their way into the quickly crowded room.

"What's going on in here!?" Starscream demanded, optics scanning the room with a hostility that matched Megatron's.

"Shut up, Starscream! This doesn't concern you," Motormaster snapped. The distinct whine of turbine-powered null rays firing up filled the room.

"You _will_ address me with respect, ground scum!" Starscream snarled fiercely, a null ray millimeters from the center of the Stunticon's optic ridge.

"SILENCE! BOTH OF YOU!" Megatron roared, his patience with this issue quickly dissipating. Skywarp and Thundercracker hung back from the confrontation with the triple changers. Naturally, Skywarp was finding the whole thing more than a little humorous. His optics were bright with mirth, even if his faceplates were stoic with indifference. Thundercracker, on the other hand, was feeling anything but mirth. His fuel tanks felt as if they had seized once he laid optics on Vortica's trembling frame. That Primus damned femme just couldn't stay out of trouble. It seemed as if trouble clung to her worse than cosmic rust. What could have possibly happened in his absence to get Megatron involved?

"Very well, Motormaster," Megatron spoke after a heady silence befell the room, "I'm going to give you your opportunity." And then Megatron laughed, an evil, maniacal laugh that filled the room and put every bot within on a razor's edge. His optics gleamed with anticipation as he first regarded Motormaster and then Thundercracker. When his laughter finally subsided, he crossed his great arms and faced away from his men saying, "It has been many orns since we've had a decent gladiatorial match. You and Thundercracker will be ready by 2300 hours tonight. Dismissed."

Megatron had made it crystal clear there would be no further discussion on the matter. Motormaster turned and stalked out of the centre, making it a point to brusquely bump into the blue Seeker as he exited.

"Enjoy her while you still can flyboy."

Thundercracker turned and glared after the Stunticon, his temper flaring briefly, but he quickly withheld himself knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to settle their conflict. Megatron had done that for him it appeared. The triple changers filed out of the room next, first Astrotrain, then Blitzwing and finally Octane, who threw a worried glance in Vortica's direction before following his fellows.

Starscream nodded curtly to Thundercracker and made to exit the room. The blue Seeker strode forward and gripped the young, femme flyer below the elbow joint and steered her towards the door after his wing leader. Skywarp followed behind. For Vortica every wire, every circuit, every relay felt as if it were on the edge of short-circuiting. Thundercracker's grip was uncomfortably firm and his optics unreadable. Starscream's broad, powerful wings obscured her view from the front and she daren't turn her head to the rear knowing that Skywarp lurked behind her, so she kept her optics down at the dark, purple plating that comprised the flooring. She felt a slight tug and looked up briefly only to see that they had paused by Thundercracker's destroyed entrance to his quarters, before moving onward. Two or three klics passed and Vortica felt another sharp tug; it appeared as if they had stopped once more. Sharp clacks still continued and Vortica glanced up to see Starscream continue onward, probably to his own quarters. At that point, Skywarp stepped around her and close to the door.

It was the first time she had gotten a good look at the black and purple Seeker. He was built nearly identical to Thundercracker with the exception of his colors. He appeared every bit as powerful and there was a certain allure that seemed to hang about the flyer like a faint, indulgent fog. He turned and looked at her, one ruby optic darkening briefly before illuminating once more.

_Did he just…wink at me?_ She thought bewilderedly.

Suddenly the door hissed open and the three of them stepped inside, the door sliding close as soon as they were through. She felt Thundercracker release her arm and she was just turning her head up to look at him when a shocked gasp caught her attention.

"Vortica!?"

Vortica's optics shot forward and immediately spied the brilliant, gold-colored pinstriped wings of her sister. The other flyer slowly stood from where she had been sitting in the corner berth, complete and utter amazement on her faceplates. Vortica was equally stunned.

"Vertices!?" she whispered, seeing but not quite certain if she could process it. Suddenly her twin leaped from the berth and dashed across the room, flinging her arms around Vortica and sending them both tumbling to the ground in a flurry of wings, thrusters and arms. Thundercracker and Skywarp both hopped out of the way of the tumbling femmes, Skywarp casting Thundercracker a quick grin as he did so.

"Oh, Primus! I thought I'd never see you again!" Vertices said in a rush, still clinging to her sister.

"Are you all right?" they both said in unison, before giggling at the absurdity of their joint question and situation. Then as if reality had cuffed them both on the helm, both femmes looked up at the two imposing Seekers towering above them. Vortices scrambled off her sister, offering her a hand up as she did so. The silver-trimmed femme struggled to her thrusters, casting a small shower of sparks across the floor as she did so. Vertices stepped back and looked at Skywarp. A lazy, devil-may-care smirk stretched across his lip components and he had his arms open in a clear invitation.

"Told ya she was all right, didn't I?" he drawled lazily.

Vortica watched, somewhat taken aback by the quick grin her sister threw the black Seeker before leaping into his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around her torso and grinned lecherously. It was certainly an extreme reversal of what she had seen from the night previous. Vortica then felt a strong pair of hands at her shoulder joints.

"You two will want to do some catching up, I presume. Skywarp and I will bring you back a cube," Thundercracker said into her audios. Vortica glanced sharply at him, fear in her optics.

"You're leaving us alone? After what happened?"

He silenced her with a sharp look. "He won't be foolish enough to try anything with all three of us back in the base. When I return, you can tell me what happened exactly, although I already have a pretty good idea," he rumbled softly. He turned and caught Warp by the elbow and began steering his wingmate out the door but not before Skywarp hollered back over his wingtip, "I'll be back ladies!"

Vertices giggled briefly before catching the more serious look her sister was giving her. "Sorry," she mumbled, but her joyous mood returned within a nanoklik as she grabbed Vortica by the arm and led her back to the berth. "Vortica! You have no idea how relieved I am that you're here! Alive!"

Vortica gave her sister a wan smile. Vertices had always been the upbeat one of the two of them. Her spark was strong and resilient, fearless even. She had always been the one to pull her into trouble head-first when they were sparklings, always the first to start fights with the other male sparklings from their village. In fact, there hadn't been a doubt in Vortica's processor that Vertices would live through this nightmare. She had only wanted to know of her sister's well-being in order to make peace with her own spark, to know that at least her sister would live, would survive to see another day. She became vaguely aware that Vertices was speaking again.

"Skywarp told me you would be all right, but I still worried! Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" she exclaimed again, giving the silver flyer another brief hug. "You are all right, aren't you? The other one? He hasn't hurt you, has he?" Vertices asked, quickly noticing how sullen her sister was.

Vortica smiled tiredly once more. "I'm fine, Cee, I'm fine. Thundercracker has taken good care of me. What about you? The last time I saw you, that other mech, the black one, was carrying you off. Are _you_ OK?" Vortica said, turning the spotlight off of herself, she really didn't want her sister to know the horror that was Motormaster and how the mech had a vendetta against her. Not yet.

Vertices smiled a little embarrassedly, her optics off-lining briefly. "I'm fine, sis. Although I'll be honest, I was scared out of my processor last night, but all he did was talk to me, asked me questions about myself, about you, our creators, our village, if I'd ever flown, you know, just small talk, and before I realized it I felt…comfortable…around him, like I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, cause he would have already if that was his intent. I did try to escape," she laughed a little as she remembered, "but I think I might have lost my touch at being an escape artist since we were sparklings. He caught me trying to force the door and drug me back to his berth. Said I was making too much noise," she chuckled softly, "Anyways, he pinned me between the wall and his chassis and every time I struggled he would just work his way closer to me until he was practically smothering me! I eventually just gave up. I know I must have off-lined at some point because I remember waking up suddenly and then hearing him whispering in my audios and…" Vertices paused at this point, clearly nervous to continue, but she gathered her wits and pressed onward, "…and touching me…all over. I…it…I…I know I shouldn't let him! But it…it felt so good and he was whispering to me…and I wanted him to stop, but at the same time I didn't! I mean, I'd never felt anything like it! And one thing led to another…" she continued, her vocalizer growing more and more stressed as she went.

Vortica reached over and laid a comforting hand on her armor. "It's OK, Cee. I'm not going to judge you or hate you or anything like that."

"You're not?"

It was Vortica's turn to smile embarrassedly. "No, I'm not. How can I when I enjoyed the very same indulgences as you?"

Vertices optics widened with surprise. "You too!?" Her sister nodded. Vertices was shocked beyond measure. Her sister, her dear sister, who played by all the rules, never took any risk, and was just as happy to go unnoticed, had actually…No, it couldn't have been consensual. "He didn't force you, did he?" she whispered.

Vortica shook her head. "Not at all." And then she began to relate her story from the beginning: Motormaster's threats, Thundercracker's intervention, their talk within his quarters and his promise to her, and then how she just lost herself to the tall, indigo Seeker, how gentle he had been with her…how caring and understanding. He was everything that she never would have associated with the word 'Decepticon.' Vertices had listened intently, but as her sister spoke a very troubling thought flitted across her processor: what if this is what the Cons wanted them to think all along? What if this was how the Cons treated all their victims? Luring them in like a cyber rabbit to the snare? And once they were comfortable with their captors, true intentions would be revealed and all would be lost? She expressed as much to Vortica.

The silver-tipped femme grew silent; it had been a thought on her processor as well. But then she remembered that look in Thundercracker's optics from the night before, when he had kissed her so passionately, she remembered that look in his optics when Motormaster had so roughly bumped into him, the anger and the hatred…how could anyone fake that so convincingly, unless they really weren't faking at all?

"I don't know, Vertices. I think they might be making an exception for us." At the curious look her sister gave her, Vortica continued, "We're flyers too, after all—not exactly a common combination being femme and flyer. There's a certain amount of…respect…between those with wings and those without." Vortica then related how Motormaster had broken into Thundercracker's quarters, her run in with the Coneheads and then the triple changers; she neatly avoided telling her twin about the Command Center incident—that would come soon enough and she really didn't want to dwell on the consequences of that act. Thundercracker was going to have to fight Motormaster now, and she couldn't help but feel she was at fault. And then a most curious thing happened.

"Do you believe we should trust them?" Vertices asked. Her sister looked at her in surprise.

"You're asking me?!"

Vertices nodded once.

This was so unlike her younger, head-strong twin. Vertices had always been the one telling them what to do, where to go, how to get there. She had always been so sure of herself and now she was asking _her_ for advice? But as she sat there with her sister, Vortica knew the answer to that question, knew it without question deep in her spark, and she knew that their only way of surviving this horrible nightmare was to trust in the Aerial Command Trine. It was now her turn to be the strong one, the decisive one, the lead twin.

"Yes, I do," she said simply, but Vertices still looked unsure. "Remember when we got lost in the tungsten canyons and you kept telling me we would be all right?" Vertices nodded her head and then gave a little laugh.

"Yeah, I do! We must have wondered around there for cycles!"

"We did, didn't we? But you never gave up until we got out and because you wouldn't give up, I wouldn't either. Well, I feel the same way about this. Just trust me, like I've trusted you all those crazy times."

Just then the door hissed open and in stepped Thundercracker, his broad wings nearly scraping either side of the door frame. Not one moment later, a brilliant flash of purple light illuminated the room and the black Seeker appeared in its midst, the light dancing across his enamel like an artificial aurora.

"We're back, ladies," he said with a sly grin, "just like I promised." He walked over to the berth and lazily slumped between the two sisters, casting an arm around both of them and pulling each close to his chassis. "A mech could get used to this," he purred, tightening his hold just a little and regarding each femme in turn. Vortica hesitantly inched her way sideways out of his grip; she noticed that Vertices hadn't really made an effort to leave. Although it did appear she was guiltily enjoying his attention. Skywarp wasn't a bad-looking mech by any stretch of the processor. Said mech then turned and gave her a long studious look. "Say there, TC, you didn't make out half bad yourself." He rose up a little and moved closer to Vortica.

She pressed herself against the wall and watched the black Seeker warily. He brushed purple-colored fingers over her wings, sending an involuntarily shiver through her frame and then held her chin lightly with the other, moving it this way and that, like a metallurgist studying a specimen. "Nope," he said finally, "not half-bad at all. How is she in the berth?" he asked unabashedly.

Vortica felt her cheek plates heat rapidly at the question, but then felt Thundercracker's strong arm wrap around her shoulders. "Shut it, Warp," he said simply, although there was no heat behind his words. He then reached out as if to grab something from midair and quite astonishingly did—from out of the air he pulled a glowing, pinkish cube of energon and handed it to her.

"Hey, I was just asking. You know, trying to make comparisons," Skywarp said placatingly, although he received a dirty glare from Vertices which he failed to notice. Vortica took the cube graciously and sipped at its delicious contents, handing it off to her sister after she had finished. Her tanks were really quite full from last night, despite her escapade earlier. Besides she had no idea if Vertices had had any fuel lately or not; best if she drank her fill first.

She felt a slight tug down against her shoulders and before she knew it, she was tucked up into the crook of Thundercracker's arm as he sat against the left wall of Skywarp's quarters. His arm was a heavy yet comforting weight across the back of her wings and as he pulled her close to his chassis. She felt a wave of relief wash across her now that he was back.

"So tell me what happened in my absence," he asked, red optics studying her intently. And so Vortica told her story once again, relating how Motormaster broke into his quarters, how she attacked him with his laser scalpel, her run-in with the Coneheads and the triple-changers, and finally her impromptu meeting with Megatron.

"And that's where we cut-in," Skywarp added once the femme was finished. "Good thing Octane got ahold of Screamer when he did," the black Seeker said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knee joints.

"Yep," Thundercracker agreed, staring off across the room. He sighed heavily as he thought back on Megatron's words. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear upon returning to base, but he had known that Motormaster wouldn't stop his pursuit until he got what he wanted. He was surprised that the Stunticon acted as boldly as he did, breaking into his quarters. At least this way, there would be finalization and the Decepticon army would bear witness. Failure could not be an option, for it was no longer only his life on the line, but hers as well. Should he fail…Thundercracker didn't even want to fathom the circumstances Vortica would find herself in. Her quavering voice quickly brought him back to reality.

"Are you really going to have to fight him?" Vortica asked hesitantly, already dreading his answer.

"Yep," he replied still staring at the far wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to get you in trouble," Vortica burst out, "please don't punish me!"

Thundercracker turned sharply. "Punish you?" He grabbed her under the chin and forced her to look at him. Tears of optical fluid dotted her optics and small sobs hiccupped within her vocalizer; she was afraid but whether it was _of _him or _for _him it was hard to tell. "Little femme, you have done nothing wrong here. You were very bold to take on Motormaster like you did. Very few mechs would have even attempted it. What Megatron has done may seem cruel, but I would rather fight that piece of slag in the ring, than have to look over my wingtips at every corner."

"You can take that dust-eater, TC," Skywarp said, an eager light sparkling in his optics. He then looked at Vortica. "Don't fret about TC none. Back in our days at the Academy, he was undefeated in hand-to-hand combat." Thundercracker shot Skywarp a warning look, but the black Seeker ignored him.

"What do mean by that?" Vertices asked, listening to whole conversation with awe.

Skywarp gave a mischievious grin and continued his yarn; when he wasn't bragging about himself, he loved to brag about his wingmate, a curious quirk that had landed him and Thundercracker in hot water on more than one occasion. "Well you see, us Seekers are undeniably the best warriors when it comes to aerial combat," he said, placing a violet hand across his cockpit in mock modesty. "Which is why we let the ground grunts handle all the piddly-little dirty work, but what many ground pounders don't realize is," and he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone, "is ole' TC here has never been beaten in the air _or _on the ground when it's old-fashioned one-on-one."

"Shut up, Skywarp," Thundercracker growled and this time Vortica heard as well as felt the warning within his tone. The blue Seeker wasn't kidding this time.

Skywarp shrugged as he stood to his thrusters. "Just telling it how it is buddy. Well, I reckon you and the winglet will want some private time before the fight, so me and the other winglet will be getting out of your way."

"Winglet!?" an indignant voice chirped from behind Skywarp's wings.

"Yes, winglet," he chided playfully over his shoulder, "You haven't flown, therefore you're still a winglet in my optics."

He returned his attention forward, but before he could say anything to Thundercracker, Vertices mumbled, "I'll show you who's a winglet." Vortica stifled a gasp as Skywarp whirled around so fast he was nothing but a swirling black and violet mass. In the next klik, Vertices was kicking and squirming over his shoulder, an outraged expression on her face. "Put me down!" she yelped, little fists beating uselessly against his plating.

"Looks like I still need to teach this _winglet_ a lesson. We'll be in Corridor Delta, Room 23 Bravo if you need me." And in a flash of purple light, they were gone, Vertices still kicking and fighting.

"Will she—"

"She'll be fine," Thundercracker assured, rising to his thrusters. He helped Vortica to her feet and then stood holding both her hands in his.

"I'm worried."

"I already told you she'll—"

"Not her; for you," Vortica interrupted, "I've caused you nothing but grief these past few breems."

He raised a black finger to her lips. "Hush," he said firmly. "I don't want to hear apologies for events beyond either of our control." He pulled her closer and she did not resist.

"Can you beat him?" she asked softly, but fearing his answer.

"I'm under no illusions. This may be the last time you see me functional."

"But Skywarp said—"

"Skywarp talks too much. It is true I'm undefeated, but there's a first time for everything and anything can happen in combat."

She listened to his words with dread building in her fuel lines like carbon build-up. It was true, but it was a harsh, truth and one she didn't want to confront right now. If Thundercracker fell, she would be fair game for Motormaster and frankly, she would rather off-line herself than give that mech the satisfaction of getting his greasy servos on her. And on top of all that, she still felt responsible for pulling Thundercracker into this fight with Motormaster; his words did little to allay her fears. This could very well be the last time either of them would be functional and Vortica strongly felt a growing urge to make it up to this powerful, indigo Seeker who had showed her so much in so little time. If this was going to be her last night in this world, then she wanted to spend it with the only mech who had ever treated her decently. That wasn't so bad, was it?

Without warning she reached up and locked Thundercracker into a passionate kiss, her optics off-lining as she threw all caution to the wind for once in her life. The Seeker, on the other hand, was totally taken by surprise by this sudden and uncharacteristic show of passion. He recoiled slightly, red optics wide with astonishment, but his shock did not last long. He quickly returned her ardor, pulling her tight against his chassis and pressing his lip components tightly to hers. Black fingers began to gently caress the back of her wings, idly tracing the silver-striping along the edges. Her felt her shiver underneath his hands and it was a delicious feeling, for it wasn't a shiver due to fear, no, this was a trembling derived from pure longing…longing for him. Like a powerful deluge descending on the plains, so Thundercracker felt the power of his lust descend upon his mind, upon his spark.

Slowly, reluctantly Vortica parted from him and stared deeply into his optics. "Help me forget," she whispered softly, "Help me forget where I am, what could happen…"

He shushed her with quick kiss. "There is no past and there is no future. Right now, there's me and there's you. Understand?" He felt her nod ever so slightly. "Good," he growled, lowering his hand to devour her mouth in another kiss. He pressed her up tightly against the wall, savoring the feel of her, how soft, how willingly she was giving herself to him. The night before she was nothing but a frightened youngling who needed coaxing and reassurance, but tonight…she was a femme, vibrant, passionate and flowing with a desire borne of desperation and maybe a little fear.

Vortica barely felt the wall on her backside, her attention much more focused elsewhere. Her hands stroked his wingbacks with soft delicacy, moving first up and then down in a gentle rhythm. As he pressed her tighter and tighter against the wall, she could feel the pure, unadulterated power coursing through him, she could feel the hotness building around his spark chamber, making the metal shrouding it quite warm to the touch. And it was wonderful. Trapped between Thundercracker and the wall, Vortica felt safe and secure; she felt as if nothing could match the blue Seeker's power and fervor, all directed at her. She suddenly felt his hands slide down her chassis, exploring, searching until they hooked around her aft and lifted her up as easily as if she were made of aluminum. In response she wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him tightly. A soft growl reached her audios and she couldn't help but smile a little. With speed only possessed by a Seeker, Vortica suddenly found herself lying flat on the berth and Thundercracker's weight settling on top of her, but it wasn't a disconcerting feeling, not by a long shot. She soon felt his mouth once more on her lips, on her neck, down her chassis, over her wings. Oh, Primus! Her wings! How that felt so good! She squirmed and bucked a little as the teases continued, a low moan escaping from her lips.

Thundercracker relished the feel of her as she twisted and writhed beneath him. Each movement from her body sent tiny currents streaking through his circuitry, each wave more powerful than the last. He felt a great heat beginning to build from within his spark, hotness so poignant it was almost painful, but a sweet, delicious ache he could tolerate for eternity. Slowly, ever so slowly he began to work his way down her chassis—first her head, then her neck, down to her chest, across her wings. And that really instigated a response. Vortica bucked upwards fiercely, but not from any desire to dislodge him. He teased her again, lips barely brushing across the smooth metal. This time his actions elicited a low moan, and Thundercracker grinned to himself. Such sweetness!

"Do you like that?" he murmured.

"Ummm-Hmmm."

"Would you like some more?"

"Why are you even asking?" she replied, a sly smile pulling at the corner of one lip. She arched her back again as he pressed his fingertips into her wings, slowly dragging them down in a torturous display of authority.

"You didn't say 'please,'" he rumbled, continuing to tease her relentlessly.

Vortica squirmed and wriggled under his assault, trying in vain to say something, but failing miserably at any attempt. Her fingertips scrabbled for purchase against his chest, leaving dark navy streaks against his lighter marine blue. The caresses continued with ever-growing intensity and Vortica couldn't help herself. She moaned again, arching her back in undeniable pleasure. Another brush of her fingers across his chest and this time they caught. With fumbling digits she continued to press and pry until a soft _click _rewarded her efforts. She looked up and saw the smallest of grins pass across his face before he grew somber.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning down to whisper in her audio.

"Yes," she said and then added, "Yes, please."

Her hands swept across his chest once more and gently opened the shrouding to his spark chamber. At the same time she felt a gentle pressure on her own chest. She quickly activated her release protocols and felt the locks loosen around her most sacred and cherished essence of her being. She could feel his fingers gently take hold of the shrouding and pull it down. Hot delicious waves of energy were radiating from both of the Cybertronians' spark chambers and Vortica stared in awe at the sight before her. She had never really considered Decepticons having a spark; their acts seemed so cruel, merciless, unscrupulous. They were monsters, sparkless monsters with nothing but an insatiable appetite for death, destruction, and tyranny. But the mech she was with now, who was holding her as tenderly as mother cradles her sparkling, was as far from that truth as the Milky Way galaxy is from Andromeda. For the mech before her was just that, a mech, a Cybertronian; there was no good guy, bad guy and his spark was the most beautiful sight her optics had ever seen. It pulsed within a fiery veil of sky blue energy; the spark itself was a magnificent shade of indigo, so dark it appeared nearly violet. It beat in a violent, captivating rhythm flickering and dancing like liquid fire. It was then she became aware of her own spark; sharp persistent pains that seemingly throbbed in time to Thundercracker's spark beat. She couldn't see her own spark, only feel its longing, her longing.

Thundercracker felt waves of hot energy wash over his frame and along his wingtips. The bright and fervent glow from Vortica's spark cast everything into stark relief. Her spark—it was so striking and unlike any he had ever seen. Thundercracker had been with femmes before—before the War, before the destruction, the loss, and moral decay of his once proud and honorable faction. The spark was one of the most closely guarded treasures of any Cybertronian; it embodied everything about that individual from protocols, mental code, and personality traits to emotions, desires, and in the human sense, spirit. Vortica's spark was as unusual as it was beautiful. All sparks he had ever seen or heard were some variation of the color blue—dusky periwinkles, deep marines, and perpetual navies—all sparks had some deviant of this color spectrum, but this femme's was different. Instead of being a soft shade of bluish-white as he expected, it was instead a light, feathery shade of red. In fact its coloring was not unlike the color of the purest energon, or the clearest pink sapphires he had once seen on the planet Astral many, many vorns ago. Its remarkable color made his systems hitch as he continued to stare in utmost wonder.

"Is something wrong?"

Thundercracker heard the question and broke away from the trance Vortica's spark had held him in. "No. No, nothing's wrong. It's just…your spark," he began, optics still captivated by her radiance.

"What? What's wrong with it?" she asked, alarm in her voice. She tried to sit up, but a firm hand pushed her back down again.

"Nothing is wrong, Vortica," Thundercracker replied. "It's absolutely the most beautiful thing I have seen in a very long time."

The worried look on her faceplates began to fade away as she relaxed once more beneath him. "Thank you…I think."

"If anything, it is I who should be thanking you," he growled lowly, lowering himself back down onto her chassis. Both could feel the powerful pull emanating from within their sparks, like two magnets of opposite poles are drawn when in proximity of each other. The draw was beginning to be painful, with each throb more powerful, more painful than the last. The heat building between them was so great, each idly wondered if their enamel would scorch from the temperature, but then again such vain thoughts were slowly drifting away like a cloud upon the wind. Vortica felt a strange and unfamiliar building of energy within her circuits, the powerful current traveling and collecting around her spark chamber. It was uncomfortable, painful even, but at the same time she didn't want it to stop. She had never felt her body react in such a way before but at the same time she vaguely knew what was taking place. And it was quite evident that Thundercracker knew as well; he knew exactly what he was doing to her and he was enjoying it.

The Decepticon raked his fingers against her wings and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. She was getting close; he could feel it within her wings—the tiny vibrations of electric current pulsing and singing a sweet melody to his audios. It spurred him on, awakening the deep primeval longing that had laid dormant for too many vorns. He kissed her again, more harshly while slowly wrapping his powerful arms about her body, but being careful to keep their cockpits separated. Vortica pitched upwards, her moans drowned within the fiery depths of the blue Seeker's passion. She fervently returned his kiss, hands reaching back behind his wings trying to pull him closer. He resisted her despite her mewls of protest, knowing that her climax was fast approaching and his wasn't far behind, but he was holding back as much for her benefit as his own. It hurt like a blast from Megatron's fusion cannon to the spark chamber, but Thundercracker knew the wait would be well worth the effort.

The rosy glow from her spark began to flicker like a candle caught in a breeze and it was quickly changing from that delicate flush to a deep, pigeon's blood ruby. Her moans were growing louder and quicker and her intakes were thrumming as fast they could cycle. He could feel his spark humming like it had only ever done once before and he knew. The time was nigh. With a rumbling growl of relief, Thundercracker allowed himself to relax and lowered his opened spark chamber directly over Vortica's. It was then several things happened at once. Blissful release came to both parties in a fiery explosion of energy and light. Blue radiance met with red radiance and intertwined into a beautiful display of deep violet light that illuminated the entire quarters. Bright arcs of red, blue and amethyst-colored electricity jumped between their frames like lightning dances between its cloud and earth. Vortica cried out as all her pent-up energy was released, the feelings of reprieve, pleasure, and pain blurred beyond recognition. Her spark was singing freely now, thrumming and resonating in harmony with Thundercracker's. It was the most joyous and unbelievable feeling she had ever known. Several minutes later, her overload finished, Vortica's systems forced her into temporary shut-down, her last sight and feeling being Thundercracker gently kissing her helm.

His lust satiated, Thundercracker rolled off of Vortica to lie beside her, adjusting his bulk so that his wings were flat against the recharge berth. He pulled the unconscious femme closer to him, listening to the dull hum of her cooling fans. His spark no longer ached, but he could still feel the after-effects of their spark bonding coursing through his circuits. A small grin pulled at the corner of his lips. Unlike Skywarp who favored quantity over quality, Thundercracker knew the best over-loads came to those who waited patiently. And boy was this one worth the wait. Their bonding was unlike any he had ever experienced and one he certainly would never forget. Pulling a great draught of air through his intakes, he sighed happily before off-lining his optics and allowing his body to fall into the depths of a deep and badly-needed recharge.

* * *

_Wake up._

The words were distant and echoing, as if spoken from the other side of a massive chasm.

"Wake up!"

A rough jostling. His optics flickered and then illuminated to full brilliance casting a rosy luminosity upon the room. A solid black figure stood beside the berth, hands on hips with two arm cannons pointing downward towards the floor. His optics traveled upwards and found Skywarp's stolid face looking back at him.

"Warp?" Thundercracker rumbled groggily, his system protocols still booting up from recharge. "What're you doing here?"

"Duh. This is my quarters, lover boy," the black Seeker replied, kneeling down beside the berth. Thundercracker scowled, but said nothing knowing that wasn't the true reason Skywarp had woken him. A quick check of his chronometer confirmed his suspicions.

"It's time, isn't it?" he asked grimly.

Skywarp nodded slowly. "Sure is bro. I came to wake you and take the little winglet back to a safe place."

Thundercracker glanced over at the still recharging Vortica. "Where?"

"Same place I took her sister earlier," he then grinned slyly. "Don't worry. She's recharging too," he added with a wink. "No one goes back there, so they should be safe…at least until afterwards," the black Seeker faltered a little.

Thundercracker slowly got to his thrusters being mindful not to disturb his precious sleeping possession. She looked so peaceful, so calm, so happy and soon that would all pass away. He was under no illusions; Motormaster would do his best to kill him and he stood at a good chance to succeed.

"Are you ready?" Skywarp asked.

"As I'll ever be, but take me with you as you jump. I…I want to say good-bye," the blue Seeker asked softly, optics never leaving Vortica's frame.

For once Skywarp didn't make any snide comments or crude jokes, he only nodded his head understandingly. "Just hold onto my wing," he said as he scooped the sleeping Vortica into his arms. Once he felt Thundercracker's hand on his wingtip, the black Seeker teleported the three of them to Corridor Delta, Room 23 Bravo.

In a brief flash of violet light they reappeared within the tiny room, the sleeping form of Vertices comfortably sprawled across the berth. Skywarp deposited the silver-striped femme beside her sister, taking care not to let her fall off the edge. He watched silently as Thundercracker knelt beside her and gently kissed her helm; he also whispered something within her audios, but it was too soft even for his keen audios to hear. He was puzzled as to what had caused his wingmate to have gotten so attached to this femme in so little time, but then again she and her twin was a bit of a rarity. Still though, he had never seen Thundercracker show such delicacy towards another—not for a very, very long time, not since before the War. In a way it was good to see his friend get a little enjoyment out of life, no matter how brief and there wasn't a doubt in the teleport's processor that Thundercracker would come out on top tonight. He had a feeling and more often than not his feelings were usually correct. He checked his chronometer; time was growing short.

"Come on, TC. It's time to go," he said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "She'll be here after you kick Mufflerhead's aft."

Thundercracker smirked at Skywarp's optimism, but it never reached his optics. He stood to his thrusters, optics lingering on the one femme. "I'm ready."

Skywarp nodded, laying a hand on his wingmate's shoulder. In a brief flash of purple light the two Seekers disappeared.


	5. The Fleeing

**Yay, I'm done! FINALLY! Hope you guys enjoy this, in my opinion, kick-ass chapter. Please be sure to check out the Epilogue as it has one awesome, surprise ending! Please read and review and let me know what you think. My take on one under-used canon character. Want a sequel? Let me know.**

**Chapter Five: The Fleeing**

Vortica awoke with a start in the darkened room, acutely aware that she was not where she had been a few cycles ago. A quick glance around confirmed her visual readings; Thundercracker was nowhere to be seen and her twin was recharging peacefully right next to her. _He must have moved me after I fell into my recharge cycle and now he's gone to fight_, she thought morosely, optics dimming at the thought. _I may never see him again._ It was a sobering thought. Since the War's inception, Vortica had been taught that the Autobots were fighting for justice and righteousness and the Decepticons for total domination of the people. She had been taught to fear the Decepticons and avoid them at all costs, that they would abuse you, use you and then discard you like a worthless piece of scrapmetal. They cared for nothing and no one. But here within the last couple of joors, she now knew different. It seemed values within the Decepticon Army were more intricate and complex than anyone on the outside could comprehend. There were factions within a faction and inner loyalties that trumped the greater collective of the army—inner morals that trumped the status quo.

Slowly Vortica sat up, sliding her legs silently off the berth to dangle over the side. It was then she became aware of something tied to her wrist. Her faceplates wrinkled in confusion as she lifted her left wrist to optic level. There secured snugly to her wrist was a thin piece of magnetic wire; attached to it, dangling like a charm, was a miniature disk. Now thoroughly curious, Vortica removed the disk and stared more closely at it. It resembled a miniature compact disc and was quite miniscule. It caught the faint rays of light emanating from her optics and reflected them into hundreds of little rainbows.

_I wonder…_she mused to herself, sliding open a tiny slit within her right wrist. She quickly inserted the disc and waited for it to load to her processor. When it finished she silently gasped in surprise. It was a message from Thundercracker and it read:

_Vortica,_

_By the time you read this I will already be on my way to the fight rink. Time is very short. I have left you, on this disc, a layout of the base and the corresponding security points as well as shift changes. Follow the route I have outlined and you should escape without notice. Most all Decepticons will be at the match. DO NOT GET CAUGHT! I cannot help you if you do. Once clear of the base, it will take you several cycles to clear Decepticon-controlled territory. Heed the guidelines on this disc and you should have safe passage. My only request is that you destroy this disc once you reach safety or if you feel capture is imminent. They must not know you had help from within._

_I promised you that I would try to get you out of here and this is the best that I can do. I only wish I could be there to teach you the wondrous joy that is flight. You are a natural-born flyer; let your programming guide you. I know that when the time comes, you will take flight and experience true freedom._

_Live Free and Fly High,_

_TC_

By the time Vortica had finished reading the message, her optics were moist with tears. This mech was risking and sacrificing so much for someone he barely knew. In fact, he may not even live through the fight, a fight he was purposely using as a diversion to ensure her and her sister's escape. _No! I won't think like that! He's a Seeker, one of the best warriors this planet has ever seen. He'll make it! I know he will._

Enough dwelling. It was time to escape. She would not squander the precious time Thundercracker was sparing her to dwell on things beyond her control. With renewed vigor Vortica turned and woke her sister.

* * *

Thundercracker entered the arena, stoic and dispassionate from the cheers and jeers of his fellow soldiers within the stands. The old coliseum was mainly used for drill and hand-to-hand combat sessions while in-between major offensives. It had not been used for its original purpose since before the war. Now it rippled and breathed like a beast revived from a long slumber—and it was hungry for its first drop of spilt energon.

Thundercracker felt rather than saw his wingmate approach from behind. Skywarp laid a comforting hand on his shoulder vent, a silent encouragement for what was to come. "Let's get this over with, buddy," he heard him say. "And after you kick Motormouth's aft, we can go back and celebrate with the girls."

The blue Seeker exchanged grins with his friend. _If he only knew…_Thundercracker had opted not to tell Skywarp of his plan. _The less people involved, the better,_ he silently mused. If things went horribly south and the femmes were caught, he'd be the one to take the fallout and no one else; it was his idea, therefore he'd take the blame. He watched Skywarp melt back into the darkness of the entry tunnel, leaving him a solitary figure at the mouth of the arena entrance once more. Outside the stands had grown somewhat quieter as Megatron delivered a short oration to begin the fight.

Thundercracker clenched and unclenched his fists, the servos whining in protest at his force. This may very well be the fight of his life and for what? A pathetic Neutral? A being who he barely knew? He shook his head. No, it was more than that. He was fighting for every wrong he had ever committed, every Innocent he had off-lined—should he off-line today, it was less than he deserved compared to what he had done. This one act of redemption could not justify a lifetime of evil, but at least there would be one less black mark on that bloodied record.

Suddenly the crowd roared. Thundercracker looked up to see Motormaster enter the arena, his sword held high above his head in a show of dominance. He paraded around the arena's center, a towering pillar of destruction and carnage. It was time to end this. Thundercracker knew this very well could be his last battle and he held no delusions of victory; if he did win, it would be by a mecanometer. But oddly enough, he did not feel as if he made the wrong decision. He felt peaceful with himself, perhaps for the first time since before the War. And this gave him strength.

With resolute strides, Thundercracker stepped forth into the wide expanse of the arena. He held his wings high and walked directly towards the center. He spared no glance to the left or to the right; he only had optics for his opponent. He felt his battle protocols kick into effect, his processor already streaming dozens of scenarios, possible attack options, and counter defense measures. The crowd roared around them, deafening in such close confines.

As Thundercracker drew close, he saw Motormaster grin wickedly and motion to the crowd, "Do you hear that? That is the last sound you will hear as I slowly choke the life from your spoke chamber!"

For the first time that night Thundercracker grinned. A low ringing began to sound, slowly gaining in intensity and frequency. Motormaster shook his head and then stepped back, clamping his hands to his audios. Even a few mechs on the lower tiers of the stand were shaking their heads in puzzlement and discomfort.

"Do you hear _that?"_ Thundercracker mocked, his grin turning feral. "That ringing in your audios is the sound of your own destruction!"

The ringing abruptly stopped and a deadly calm enveloped the coliseum as the last tones faded against the framework. Motormaster looked up and glared hatefully at his opponent. With an animal-like roar he charged swinging his powerful blade in a devastating arc. The fight had begun.

* * *

Vortica and Vertices quickly and quietly snuck through the deserted corridors of the Decepticon base. True to his word, the femmes had only come across guards at the marked positions on the map Thundercracker had given Vortica. It had been easy enough to divert around them or distract them in order to sneak by. Security cameras had been a bit of an issue; fortunately they had been clearly marked as well. Once the two femmes located them, it was simple enough snip a few wires and skirt on by. But they both knew it was only a matter of time before the dysfunctional cameras drew attention. Their freedom wasn't far now. The only sounds made were the soft _clicks_ from the femmes' thrustered heels as they trotted down the purple corridor.

"Why is he helping us?" Vortica heard her sister whisper suddenly, breaking the pattern of their footfalls.

"I don't know," she replied, although she did have a few conjectures. "Just be glad we've been given this opportunity."

"But I kinda liked Skywarp," Vertices replied, "He seemed different, you know?"

"I know. I felt the same about Thundercracker. But do you honestly think they would have kept us around indefinitely? You know they would have been forced to dispose of us sooner or later, no matter how they felt. And if they didn't do it, then someone else would. You remember the rumors." It was a statement; not a question. Once captured by the 'Cons few if any Neutrals were ever seen again. Those that were seen had been forcefully conscripted, of those none were femmes. Some rumors claimed they had been killed, others said they were being held "for further use." Regardless, Vortica didn't want to be the one to find out the truth. "Thundercracker knew this and I think he's trying to give us the best shot possible at escape."

Vertices said nothing more. They continued onward for several more clicks, until they rounded a corner. There at the end of another long corridor was a large, sliding metal door. According to her map it was the north-side exit of the base. They had made it!

"Look ahead! The exit!" Vortica whispered fiercely. The femmes hurried down the corridor, excitement building as they drew closer and closer. However, halfway down the corridor they slid to a screeching halt.

The door was opening and there was nowhere to hide. The two femmes stared horror-struck, unsure as to whether to flee back from whence they came or to remain and face their fate. Vortica ran the calculations—there was nowhere to hide from where they came and the door would fully open before they turned the corner. She braced herself. _Should I destroy the disc now? Should we fight or run?_

Her processor instantly replayed Thundercracker's message: '…_let your programming guide you…Live free and fly high…'_

In that instant she made her decision. She wasn't going back. If Thundercracker could face down Motormaster in the face of defeat, then she would fight too. She would not go back. _But you're not a soldier! _Her logic cortex practically screamed. _You're gonna get yourself killed!_

_If I stay here I'm destined to die anyway,_ she reasoned with herself, _I might as well go out kicking._

"What do we do!" Vertices panic-stricken voice squeaked.

"We fight."

"Fight! How? With what?" She positioned herself next to her sister, completely taken aback by her sister's sudden show of bravado. She wouldn't run, couldn't run. Vertices had never abandoned her twin and didn't plan to start now. But that didn't mean she didn't have doubts.

"Let your programming guide you, Cee."

"Real helpful, sis," she retorted as they faced a fully-opened door. A fierce, metallic snarl ripped through the corridor as a black animalistic shadow stepped into the metal hallway. Two pinpricks of molten red light dotted the shadow. Another snarl and the gleam of razor-sharp fangs caught the dim lighting. Stepping into the light stood the menacing and dangerous form of Ravage and he did not look open to negotiation.

Vortica felt a tremor run the length of her spine. Immediately after, she felt a reassuring hand on her wing mounts. "I'm ready, sis," Vortica heard her sister whisper. The tremor stilled and Vortica felt a low buzz within her processor. Seconds later, her processor was streaming various amounts of data about her opponent—visible weaknesses, visible strengths, escape routes, and hit points. It was a flood of information, information that Vortica was both surprised and pleased to see. She wasn't at as much a disadvantage as she originally thought. Thundercracker had been right. _But how had he known?_

Vortica didn't have long to ponder that thought, for in that instant Ravage gave a hideous growl and lunged forward, claws extended and teeth bared.

* * *

The arc of gleaming, deadly metal swung on a collision course for Thundercracker's helm. The gleam in Motormaster's optic was unmistakable: pure murder. At the last possible moment, Thundercracker leaped backward and disengaged his own sword. In the same movement he spun on his heel and slashed at his opponent's vulnerable right side. Caught broadside, Motormaster hastened to parry Thundercracker's blade. He nicked it away just in time and the resounding _clang_ echoed through the arena.

The sudden appearance of Thundercracker's blade had definitely caught the Stunticon warrior off guard. Seekers never fought with blades! They were cowards; they fought from afar! But oh, how little Motormaster truly knew.

True, Seekers were known for their deadly aerial prowess but Thundercracker was no ordinary Seeker. As Skywarp had said, his brother-in-arms had never been defeated in hand-to-hand combat and Thundercracker had the scars to prove it. It was this raw skill that had first attracted Megatron's attention and it was this unparallel ability that secured his position in the Aerial Elite. All Seekers were great, natural aerobats but only those with a special skill set had been chosen to be the Command Trine. Starscream's natural ability was his unparalleled speed and agility; his edge came from his intellect. A superior mind, Starscream easily made the transition from scientist to strategist and thus SIC. Skywarp was born to teleport and by default, mastered the art of stealth and infiltration. As for Thundercracker, everyone knew that he could manipulate sonic waves and create deafening booms, but only a precious handful were privy to his secret as a deadly weapons combatant. It wasn't until they were face-to-face and toe-to-toe with him that they realized just how much they underestimated him. Case in point, Thundercracker was an expert swordsmech. Rarely if ever used in combat, Thundercracker kept his wing saber safely hidden in plain sight. This match would be the first time he had ever drawn it since joining the Decepticons.

No sooner did Motormaster parry Thundercracker's counter-attack then he launched his own. Recovering his balance, the massive semi swung again, pivoting on his foot and stepping through the motion, forcing Thundercracker to retreat and parry—and the blows didn't stop. Motormaster continued his flurried assault with such speed and power that the blue Seeker had no choice but to give ground and defend himself. Much too soon for his liking, Thundercracker felt his one wing flush with wall.

"Now I've got you, flyboy!"

But Thundercracker was far from finished. As Motormaster swung what he was sure the killing blow, Thundercracker ducked and kicked out with his thrustered heel, catching the Stunticon square in the knee joint. The strike threw the sword wide; it glanced off the arena wall with a clatter. Motormaster reeled backwards, his knee dripping fluid and sparking madly. Thundercracker used this opportunity to put some space between them, working his way down the wall, around and behind Motormaster. It was none too soon. With a roar, Motormaster whirled swinging his blade at knee level. Thundercracker leaped high to avoid the deadly arc, but that was just what the semi wanted. At the peak of Thundercracker's leap, Motormaster propelled himself up with his good leg and punched with his free hand. The strike caught the Seeker square in the chest and sent him sailing. Thundercracker landed heavily on his shoulders, the vents digging great gouges into the arena floor. Shards of yellow reinforced glass fell around him like rain, the shattered remnants of his cockpit.

In astroseconds Motormaster was on top of him swinging his sword down towards the gaping hole that was Thundercracker's canopy. One powerful strike there and it was game over. How that behemoth could move that quickly with a blown out knee Thundercracker did not know, but what he did know was that he needed to move and move quickly. Fortunately, he had managed to hold onto his sword; gripping the hilt with one hand and the palming the tip with the other, Thundercracker brought his sword up horizontally and stopped Motormaster's killing blow. At the same time a resounding _crack _echoed through the stands as his saber broke in two. He lashed out with his feet, catching the semi in his mid-drift and forcing him back.

But now he faced a real problem: he was weaponless and Motormaster wasn't.

* * *

Vortica dodged to the left as her sister leaped right, the black shadow that was Ravage sailing between the two. The twins wasted no time in trying to sprint for the exit. But it seemed that the panther was just a tick faster. Right on their heels, Ravage lashed out and caught Vortica around her calf, tripping her up and sending her sprawling across the corridor. Vertices was almost to the exit when she realized her sister was no longer with her. Whirling around, she saw Ravage standing atop her twin, Vortica throwing punches, kicking and bucking for all she was worth. Their optics met and she cried, "Go! Get out of here, Cee!"

But Vertices was not going anywhere without her sister. They had been captured together, they would escape together or by Primus, they would die together. She charged, running as fast and as hard as she could. Ravage looked up from where he had just bitten Vortica's forearm only to be greeted by a flying gold and blue rocket. Vertices tackled the panther wrapping her arms tightly around Ravage's neck and bowling him off her sister. As soon as they hit the floor, she rolled off her aggressor and onto her feet. A fierce light set her blue optics afire and she stood braced on the balls of her feet ready for the next strike.

Ravaged rolled to his feet, snarling and hissing with rage. He swiped his tail angrily back and forth, carefully deciding which target was worth attacking. These were Neutrals, not soldiers! They would be more than easy to dispatch; all that was left was to decide the method.

Vertices held her ground, optics never leaving the cyber-cat. She could barely see her twin struggling to regain her footing. If they were going to escape, they were going to have to double team this monster. But how do you take down a foe with no apparent weapons? Especially a foe armed to the teeth, literally.

Deciding Vertices was the more relevant threat, Ravage feinted a lunge at Vortica and then double-backed for a full assault on his target. Completely startled, Vertices threw her hands in the air as an automatic reaction, bracing her body for the inevitable tear of teeth and claws. When it came it felt as if she had been hit by a pile-driver. She toppled over backwards and crashed painfully onto her wings, that particular pain the least of her problems. Searing pain ripped through her neural network as Ravage raked her up one side and down the other. Bright splashes of energon began appearing on the floor and pooling under her wings. The sight of it only intensified her desperate attempt to remove the killer bot on top of her.

Vortica stared horror-struck and at a total loss of what to do. Fear and anger rushed through her fuel lines as she saw the increasing amount of energon spill across the floor. They were so close! She was NOT going to lose her sibling now! Not with the exit mere meters from them!

She stepped towards Ravage, anger blazing from her optics. Raising her hands towards the panther she cried, "Get away from my sister NOW!" Vortica's voice echoed down the corridor; when the last echo had died, there was stark-dead silence. Ravage stopped his mauling just long enough to spare her an arrogant glare. Suddenly the silence was broken by a very faint, a very delicate whisper. It grew slowly, louder and louder, the whisper became a whoosh and then the whoosh grew to a roar. Vortica felt her body jolt as a funnel of super-accelerated air erupted from her outstretched hands. The funnel struck Ravage broadside and sent the cyber-cat sailing down the corridor and into the far wall, knocking him immediately off-line.

She stood stunned at what she had just done, hands still outstretched, the whisper of winds still in the hallway. _What in the name of Primus just happened! How did I do THAT!_

Vertices coughed, droplets of energon spluttering from her vents. Nasty tears in her armor stretched from her collar plate, across her torso and down to her thigh guards. Wiring sparked here and there and energon still dribbled from several minor lines. By the grace of Primus, Ravage had somehow missed her primary fuel pump and its feeder line. She stood shakily staring at her sister in wonder.

"How did you do that?"

"I have no idea. I saw you down and felt so angry…It just came." Vortica lowered her hands and studied them. Her optics trailed down the corridor to Ravage who still lay in a crumpled heap offline. Vertices hobbled to her side, following her sister's optics to their downed opponent. Seeing her sibling right next to her snapped Vortica from her trance.

"We need to get out of here and get you patched up." She quickly began pinching off the lines to stop the worst of the bleeding. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to get them safely out of the base. When she finished, she grabbed Vertices elbow and helped her to the exit. "Come on, after all that ruckus someone is bound to come and investigate." Together the two Seeker sisters exited out the open door and made a break for the darker shadows of the metal-clad hills.

* * *

Thundercracker reeled backwards from the glancing blow delivered by Motormaster's sword. Fluids spilled freely from the gash ripped across his shoulder vent. He regained his balance quickly and backpedaled, putting some much needed distance between them.

"What are you going to do now, slagheap? Are you gonna fly away like the coward you truly are?" Motormaster taunted, circling closer trying to close the gap.

"Coward? Pfft. The only coward I see is the one standing before me," Thundercracker countered. He leaped sideways as the Stunticon slashed again, the blade's tip missing him by mecanometers.

"Give in to me now and I'll make sure your deactivation is quick and painless!"

"Go frag a trash compactor, Stunticreep!"

With a roar Motormaster charged again, but this time Thundercracker was ready for him. He ducked under the slashing blade while simultaneously turning his back to his foe. He reached with both hands and grasped Motormaster's sword hand and wrenched—against the servos' range of motion. A loud _crack!_ ripped through the air as the semi's wrist was broken, the sword clattering to the floor. Unable to stop his momentum, Motormaster struck Thundercracker's outstretched thigh. Still gripping the wrist, Thundercracker yanked it down hard and used his other hand to grip above the elbow. Motormaster flipped forward over the Seeker's back and landed heavily on the floor. His roar of anger quickly changed to that of pain. Not losing a beat, Thundercracker reached down and commandeered the sword, its point resting under his opponent's chin.

But despite the pain in his wrist and arm, the Stunticon was not ready to give in just yet. With his good hand he drew his ion blaster and pointed it dead center to the Seeker's smashed cockpit. "I'll be damned to the Smelting Pools before I lose to half-bit, reject crop duster like you!"

"Makes us even then," Thundercracker snarled vehemently. "Only a true coward would use a blaster in a gladiatorial match!"

Motormaster grinned evilly. "Always bring a gun to a knife fight."

"Well it seems we're in a bit of a draw, then, doesn't it?" Fluids slowly dripped down Thundercracker's arm and onto the blood groove of the sword. The dark stream slowly meandered down the blade and began to drip off the point and onto Motormaster's broad chest. Sparks still spewed from his cockpit and shoulder; the bright blue light of his spark cast the remaining shards of glass of his cockpit into bright array.

Soundwave sat stoically beside his leader watching the match with an impassionate stare. Megatron had always found a carnal joy in watching the savagery wrought by these fights; Soundwave not so much. In fact, not many mechs knew what did bring the Communications Officer joy. It was one of the many mysteries that surrounded him. But during this particular match his visor brightened considerably. He turned to Megatron and spoke for the first time since the fight's inception.

"Megatron: Security breach in Corridor Delta. Prisoners have escaped."

Megatron ripped his optics from the fight to glare at Soundwave. "What was that!" he growled, knowing what he heard but still disbelieving of the words.

"Security breach in Corridor Delta. Prisoners have escaped," Soundwave repeated. "Ravage in-bound from reconnaissance mission. Discovered prisoners in Corridor Delta attempting to escape. Transmission cut shortly after."

"What prisoners Soundwave?" Megatron demanded.

"Two female Seekers, Lord Megatron."

The Decepticon leader swore vehemently before storming to his feet. "Broadcast this message, Soundwave," he commanded.

* * *

The tense stalemate between the two combatants was shattered when the booming voice of their leader cut through the tense silence of the arena.

"Decepticons! I declare this match to be over! We have escaped prisoners. I want them found and brought back to me this instant!" Like a hoard of ants being flooded from their hill, soldiers poured from their seats. "Starscream! Thrust! Take your trines and find them immediately!"

Thundercracker slowly backed away from his rival, allowing Motormaster to unsteadily climb to his feet. He couldn't hide the sly grin that split his lip components. They made it. Vortica and her sister had made it out. Now it was up to them to evade capture and make it across the lines. He had no doubt that they would make it. But Motormaster's surly voice brought him back to the present.

"You! I'd bet my last cubes of high grade that it's that femme that's escaped, isn't it?" he accused. "You had something to do with it, I know."

"You can't prove a thing," he said evenly.

"Watch me as I make her scream out in confession when I get my hands on her!" he whirled and limped for the exit, knee still sparking madly. Thundercracker tossed the sword and leaped skyward. His injuries hurt something fierce, but Megatron's orders needed to be followed. He only hoped the femmes had a large enough head start.

* * *

Vortica hurried her sister as fast as she dared; Ravage's attack had been fierce but not too severe. But it was enough to slow them up much more than she preferred. They shuffled by several deep canyons, skirting the edges and using the shadows for cover. Thus far they had been lucky; four long cycles had passed with no sign of pursuit. But she knew their luck couldn't hold forever. They needed to reach the Great Rift by the end of this cycle. The Great Rift was a huge natural chasm that had traditionally divided the northern and southern hemispheres of the planet. One hundred kilometers long and half as wide, this huge, natural, iron-clad canyon prevented any ground troops from penetrating either army's lines and provided an outstanding natural defense. Only flier models could effectively traverse its width and since those were in short demand on the Autobot side, the Great Rift provided the Decepticons an outstanding staging area from whence they could launch attacks without fear of retaliation from air or ground forces.

No grounders had ever been able to navigate the canyon's winding ravines and the treacherous terrain was murder on tires and pedes alike. But if Vortica and Vertices were going to make it out alive, they needed to get to the canyon and somehow cross its immense girth. They would worry about navigation later.

Suddenly overhead, three separate jets pierced the silence with the scream of their engines. Vortica watched petrified that they had been seen, but the three continued onward, very faint contrails lancing the sky from which they passed.

"That was too close; we better hurry."

"Yeah, because Primus knows we've been taking the scenic route," Vertices grumbled petulantly. "Have you even thought about what we're gonna do when we get there? Have you even seen the Rift?"

"No, but it's better than dallying in Decepticon territory," Vortica replied. "I'm hoping we can hide along the base and just work our way along the wall."

"That would take orns, Vortica, besides we're low on energon and we'd never even make it a quarter of the way around."

The blue and silver femme made no rebuttal; her twin was right. They were low on energy and had no physical knowledge of the terrain ahead. They could very well starve to death in their attempt to evade their captors, but that was an acceptable risk given the alternative. She'd been improvising their escape since leaving the base and she didn't know how much longer she could go before making a mistake.

The twin moons of Cybertron had just crested the horizon when Vortica and Vertices saw a great, engulfing darkness stretch before them. The glint of the land they had been traversing slowly dipped downward before abruptly ending roughly 500 meters ahead. The chasm resembled a great black sea of air, stretching endlessly to the left, right and fore of them.

_We made it,_ Vortica sighed. _We just might have a shot._ But any shred of hope she had flickered out like a candle in the wind. Her preliminary scans of the area told her that the cliff face was sheer, no trail, not even a lip protruded from its edge. Even worse, the chasm's depth was nigh innumerable. The sisters approached the edge hesitantly and stared down into the black abyss. Vertices scuffed her thrusters on the edge, loosening a tiny metallic chip. She kicked it over the edge and listened for any feedback—there was none.

"Well, this is a problem. How are we supposed to lose ourselves in the Rift if we can't even get down there? We don't even know how to fly yet."

A distant roar drew their attention out over the chasm. Three pinpricks of light dotted the dark horizon and were closing fast.

"Seekers..."

"We better get outta of here!" The sisters whirled from the edge and began making a hasty retreat back the way they had come. Suddenly Vertices drew up short, causing Vortica to stumble.

"What! What! Why'd you stop?"

"My long range scanners indicate a large mass of moving vehicles heading this way. We're boxed in, sis! They've boxed us in!"

Vortica looked over her wingtip to see the Seekers streak by overhead. She eyed the maroon and white colors and recognized this trine as the Coneheads. They looped back around and she heard a loud, deep laugh. "Well if it isn't our little, lost femme!"

The ground shook as the three jets landed simultaneously before them, their transformation perfectly synchronized. Vortica shoved her sister behind her. Though she wasn't much better off, she had a better chance at defending them both seeing as how she was the least injured.

"Remember us, femme?" Dirge stepped forward, a licentious smirk on his lip components. Behind him, the other two snickered unabashed.

"Looks like TC lost his little play toy," Ramjet jeered, nudging Thrust on the side.

"Yeah. Ya know what they say, 'finder's keepers.' Ain't that right?"

Dirge smirked darkly. "That's what I've always heard. Besides, we made this one a promise, didn't we boys? I'd hate to rescind on my word."

"Stay back," Vortica warned.

"Or what scraplet?" Ramjet retorted. He cracked his knuckle servos in anticipation. Behind the Coneheads, she could see the spotlights of the ground-bound Decepticons growing larger. Time was running out. Was Thundercracker with them? Would he help them? Even before she asked herself that question she knew the answer. Even if he wanted to, she knew he couldn't. She needed to think of a solution and think of one fast.

_Let your programming guide you…_

Once again she felt a tiny tug in her processor, an unfamiliar system coming online she hadn't even realized she had. But this time she recognized its signature. It was a self-defense protocol! As hundreds of numerics scrolled across her HUD she realized it was this system that had allowed her to literally blow Ravage away. It was an in-built weapons system! _Why had I never realized I had this program before?_

_Because you've never been this threatened before,_ some distant part of her consciousness answered.

She quickly commed her twin. _"Did you just get a protocol ping?"_

"_Yes, what is it?"_

"_A weapons system protocol. We just might have a shot. This is what allowed me to take down that cyber cat."_

"_But that was a cat! Not three full-grown mechs!"_

"_I'm going for it!"_

"_I hope you know what you're doing!"_

"_Just stealing a play from your playbook and following my programming! Try to help me; we're going to make a break for the Rift." _They began backpedalling as the Seekers approached, hunger in their optics.

"_But we can't fly!"_

"_We're Seekers, Cee! We're built to fly."_ Deep inside she now knew what Thundercracker had meant when he had said she would know when the time was right to take flight and taste freedom. He had been quite literal with his words.

"_Trust me,"_ and she cut the com. "I'm giving you one last warning: Stay back or you'll regret it."

"The only thing I regret is not getting my servos on you sooner!" Ramjet retorted, launching himself at the femmes. Vortica braced for the wind surge and activated the programming. Just as before, the air around her was drawn into her vents, became hyper-accelerated in the micro-turbines of her forearms and was blasted out of two uniquely designed wind funnels just below her wrists. A second river of wind joined the first as Vertices stepped forward; both femmes knocking down their pursuers and blowing them backwards several mecanometers.

"What the frag!" Thrust exclaimed as he was slammed down onto his back. Ramjet and Dirge landed heavily beside him, both cursing profusely at the sudden attack. Dust and tiny metallic shavings stung their derma plating as the dying winds slowly rescinded. Struggling to their thrusters the three Coneheads stormed into the dust cloud left and out the other side. Several hundred meters away, the femme Seekers were making a beeline for the Rift's edge.

"Now we got 'em! And this time, no mercy!" Dirge growled, leaping into the air, followed by his comrades.

"Hurry! They're in the air and looping back for a strafing run!"

"But we CAN'T fly, Vortica! And even if we could we're no match for them!"

Vortica ignored her sister's complaints and continued to drag her towards the edge. Behind them she could see the ground units closing fast. In the sky, Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet were skimming the deck heading straight for them. It was now or never.

"Trust me!" she called over the howl of the engines. Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Vertices by the elbow joint and leaped off the edge just as the Conehead trine screamed overhead.

"They jumped! Those suicidal idiots jumped! Now I'll never get laid!" Thrust complained, pulling up abruptly.

"Wait!" Dirge cried, pulling up and hovering abruptly. "I don't believe my optics!"

* * *

The ice cold air of the Great Rift ripped by Vortica's wings as they plummeted into the dark depths of the canyon. But instead of feeling fear as she had anticipated she felt over-whelming exhilaration—a tug on her processor and she knew.

"Follow your processor, Vertices!" she cried over the howl of the wind.

Following through on the tiny touch, Vortica felt herself transform for the first time in her life. Her wings rotated forward and her legs drew up to her chassis. She tucked in her arms and head and felt her plating shifting and accommodating this new form. She felt her thrusters automatically ignite and saw dozens of readings scroll across her HUD display. Imagining herself drawing up, she felt her nosecone slowly tip upwards, her body following her train of thought instantaneously. Beside her on her wingtip, an identical jet did likewise.

"_Primus Vortica! We're flying! We're actually fragging flying!"_

Dirge stared incredulously as two nearly identical jets screamed up from the depths of the Rift and shot skyward as if from a cannon. Each was a shiny, metallic navy blue, the dark paint scheme blending into the falling darkness nearly perfectly. The only identifying marks on either jet were a series of stripes adorning the wings, one set gold, the other silver. Both jets were sleek and stunning, from the finely pointed nosecone to the forward swept wings, down to the distinct green-glow on the engines.

They were flying! The two femmes were flying! With no formal instruction on flight skills they would be more than easy prey. "After them!"

Vortica and Vertices continued high into the sky, leveling off and making a beeline for the far side of the rift. At this rate, they would be able to cross the divide in joors. "How did you know, sis?" Vertices cried joyfully as they streaked across the sky.

"I had a little help," Vortica said easily, recalling Thundercracker's message and re-reading it once more. But her joy was short-lived; three blips appeared on her radar and were closing fast. "But we're not out of trouble yet. Those three rustsuckers aren't giving up."

"Do you think our weapons will work in this form?"

"Don't know," but already the wheels in Vortica's processor where turning. Obviously, she and her twin could manipulate the surrounding air currents, but just how much control did they have? They were totally new to this and one slip would land them right back into Decepticon clutches or at the bottom of the Rift.

"I have an idea," Vertices suddenly announced. "If it works those three morons won't even know what hit them!" She quickly sent her plan via a data burst and waited for Vortica's approval.

"I like it. Let's try it!"

* * *

"They're almost across! Hurry you half-built, reject scrapheaps!" Ramjet crowed. Thrust was just ahead of him, being the slightly faster of the three. He cackled evilly as his wingmate announced a target lock.

"Blow them out of the sky!"

"Wha-Wait a click! I lost it. What in the slag are they doing?" Thrust called, slowing his acceleration slightly. Ahead of him the two jets were beginning to barrel roll and then slowly began to barrel roll around _each other_, slowly at first and then faster and faster. The awkward and unusual movement was giving him difficulty in reacquiring his lock and judging by the amount of cursing over their trine link, his wingmates were having difficulty as well.

Suddenly his delicate aerosensors were picking up an unusual disturbance in the air currents around them. And by all readings, the source was dead ahead.

"Oh slag. Guys! We have a situation!"

"Forget it! Don't let those scraplets cross the Rift!" Dirge replied.

"It's getting worse!" Thrust's instruments were beginning to run haywire, the needles and digital readings streaming data so fast he couldn't comprehend it all. He felt a blast of air rip across his wings. He hadn't felt a current that strong since flying through one of Earth's wind storms—a hurricane, is what the humans called it. He still remembered that experience and it sent shudders down his frame. Not this time! Oh, no, his psychotic wingmates could have those two twerps! "You two idiots have at it! I'm outta here!" He pulled up and banked abruptly, retreating back the way they had come.

"You spineless fragger! Get back here!" Dirge cried, but all his anger suddenly evaporated as he beheld what was happening before him. A massive, rotating funnel of air opened before him, bits of tiny debris sucked up from the Rift spinning wildly inside. "Holy Primus!" he yelped, cutting power to his thrusters and trying in vain to bank around the monstrous anomaly, but to no avail. The powerful vortex sucked him in like fluid through a straw. He and Ramjet were thrown into each other and tossed around and around and around, each rotation more violent and faster than the last. He howled in pain and terror as the funnel continued to beat him senseless. Ramjet was fairing no better, having already lost one tailfin and part of his wing. It felt like being in one of those Primus-damned earth creatures' garment cleaning devices, only 20 times worse! Suddenly he found himself spat out of the swirling current and plummeting into the Rift, Ramjet right beside him. The two Seekers on-lined their engines and struggled to maintain their altitude. Confused and totally disoriented, they spent several astroseconds waiting for the world to stop spinning.

"What…in the slagging pit…was that!" Ramjet gasped, struggling to get his bearings.

By the time, either Seeker could properly focus the two little green dots were not but pinpricks in the sky.

* * *

"We did it!" Vortica cried joyfully, "Vertices, you are a mad genius!"

"Hey, you're not the only one that can come up with crazy, hare-brained schemes!" The two femmes did a victory roll, clearly in the home stretch. They roared across the Rift and into Autobot-held territory; they were safe now. No more Decepticons, no more Motormaster, no more…Vortica's systems gave a hitch…no more Thundercracker. It was for the better she knew. He couldn't have protected her forever. Still she couldn't help but feel her spark long for him, a pang of loneliness that would never be filled.

Unbeknownst to her, high in Cybertron's upper atmosphere a blue Seeker cruised easily on the jet stream. He was proud of her, her and that twin both. Taking on the Coneheads took ball bearings, something he wasn't too sure she had to begin with, but by Primus did she fool everyone in the end. His spark yearned for her, but he knew it would have to be a pain he would have to live with. Suddenly an ache of the more physically kind tore through his damaged body; it seemed he could no longer ignore his injuries. Banking gently to the right, he turned thrusters and began heading back to base, happy for her freedom, but saddened by his own enslavement.

_**FIN!**_


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Nine orns had passed since Vortica's harrowing escape from the Decepticon base of Fort Scyk. She and Vertices had started anew, each carrying on their separate lives. 'Cee had decided that neutrality was no longer acceptable and had flown off to join the Autobots in their fight. Flyers were few and far between, especially Seeker models and despite being a femme, the Autobots eagerly took her in. Vortica later learned that her twin had joined the ranks of femme commander Elita One, providing air support and protection to her forces on the far side of Cybertron. She was happy for her twin; Vertices had always needed action and purpose in her life; now she had it.

As for her, Vortica remained a Neutral, choosing to become a medic and helping those mechs injured from the front lines. Stretcher was a good instructor and an even better surgeon; Vortica learned much under his tutelage. She enjoyed her work, helping others heal and recover, doing her part while still judiciously objective. In the end every mech's energon ran pink, whether Decepticon or Autobot, and all felt pain equally.

But while she helped others to heal and bandaged their wounds, she was acutely aware that hers were still raw and open. Nine orns and still no word of Thundercracker, not that she expected it anyway. Still each day, her spark felt heavier, the pain more intense. Was this what sparkache felt like? Would it ever dull? _Probably not,_ her processor would answer and the ache would return.

It happened at the wash station. Vortica had been washing a pair of scalpels and energon clamps. She scrubbed the instruments vigorously, knowing that cleanliness was of the highest importance.

"I need those clamps in three clicks, Vortica," Stretcher said, as he passed by, cleaning his hands on a damp cloth.

"Yes, sir," she replied, never deviating from her work. Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through her very core, causing the young femme to collapse onto the floor. The scalpels clattered across clean-swept floor sliding underneath an unoccupied berth.

"Vortica!" Stretcher was at her side in astroseconds, slowly urging her to lie flat on the floor.

"Ohh! My spark!" she gasped, painfully, her optics flickering wildly. It felt as if her spark were on fire, as if its chamber were too small and it was beating incessantly against its confines. She instinctively knew it wasn't her twin. This pain felt nothing like their twin bond; this was something totally different.

_Thundercracker!_

The name seared across her processor like an electric whip. Was he in trouble! Fear and apprehension tore through her for the first time since returning to safe territory. What if someone found out? What if Stretcher somehow discovered a connection between her and the Decepticon lieutenant? Spark bonds were so new to her, what if this was because of one?

Another flash of pain and she curled in on herself, groaning in agony. "I need a berth!" She heard Stretcher yell authoritively. She felt her systems begin to shut down, re-routing her energon back to her spark. The pain was coming in waves, each more intense than the last. She felt herself beginning to enter shutdown, despite every effort to fight it.

_No! I can't! They'll know! They'll…condemn…me._

"Hang in there Vortica! I'm here. I'm here, little spark," she heard Stretcher once more, but this time his voice was distant, his form blurry. She felt her body being lifted up and carried; she heard other voices chattering away and then slowly fading into static. Hands passed over her and gently prodded and probed her chest compartment. She heard the tinkling of instruments and even more voices. But then Stretcher's voice cut through once more and his words chilled her to the depths.

"In the name of Primus, I don't believe it!"

* * *

She awoke slowly, the darkness fading to give way to the gentle lighting of some sort of room. She blinked allowing her optics to calibrate and adjust. A slight rustling and she turned, startled.

"You're awake, good."

She relaxed marginally; it was only Stretcher. She glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings. It seemed they were alone in a tiny cubicle of the hospital. Her berth, a small wash stand and a single chair the only pieces of furniture in the room—wait check that. On her other side of the room was a medium-sized stand, rectangular in shape and slightly taller than her berth. She turned her attention back to Stretcher.

"Wha- happened?" she asked, voice sizzling with static.

"You gave us quite a scare, young one. We thought we were going to lose you both."

The last word instantly grabbed her attention. "Both?" she squeaked.

Stretcher chuckled dryly. He rose from his seat and made his way to the stand. He reached down from the top and slowly withdrew a tiny bundle wrapped in cleansing cloths. He handed the bundle to her. "You've been out for several breems. Had to give the little one a supplemental feed line until you came around. Ornery little thing too, kept trying to crawl out of the incubator to get to you. He's quite the escape artist."

Vortica sat up slowly and cradled the tiny life form. Drawing the cloths away she gasped softly. There in her arms was a tiny miniature version of Thundercracker. The sparkling's optics glowed a very soft blue, the only defining difference. The soft, blue armor glimmered in the lighting and she vaguely felt two tiny wing nubs through the cloths.

"Wha- How is this possible?" she whispered. Stretcher sat back down and looked at her kindly, but intently.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

And then Vortica knew. The pain; it hadn't been sparkache at all. She had become sparked…by Thundercracker. The increasing restlessness, the increasing pain, the feeling of her spark nearly exploding…it had all been because he had sparked her. She had been carrying his offspring and never realized it!

"I know you don't like to talk about your captivity with the 'Cons, but this sparkling's birth puts your sparking right in that timeframe."

She looked at Stretcher pleading in her optics. Fluid welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheek plates.

"I won't force you to tell me if you don't want to, Vortica," Stretcher laid a comforting hand on her arm, sympathy deep in his gaze. She inhaled deeply, steadying her systems. A panel slid back from her chest. Vortica slowly withdrew a tiny energon feeder line and gave it to her little one. He took it eagerly, suckling the sweet fuel with gusto.

"He was the only one decent to me, Stretcher," she began tiredly. "He's the only reason my sister and I escaped. He gave me hope," she paused and looked down, "and it looks like a lot more." She smiled gently. "I'm sure you can guess who his father-creator is just by looking at him."

Stretcher smirked. "Yeah, it's kinda obvious, little spark." He reached out and gently stroked the sparkling's brow. "When I realized what was happening I rushed everyone out and delivered him myself. Your not realizing what was happening, very nearly killed you both. Your spark was destabilizing and the little one was coming one way or the other. Natural spark-births are tricky affairs, especially for first-timers like yourself, but you pulled through. When I first laid optics on him, I couldn't believe what I was seeing and I especially couldn't get over the resemblance. As far as I'm concerned, this secret doesn't leave this room, unless you want it to."

"Thanks Stretcher. I wish he could see him."

"One day he might. You never know. The bonds between creators and sparklings are unique. So what are you going to name him?"

Vortica was silent as she thought the question over. What would be a good designation? She suddenly smiled as the perfect name came to her. It represented both her mad flight from the Decepticons as well as her little sparkling's ambition. "You said he kept trying to crawl out of the incubator?"

"Yep. Sneaky little rascal, that one," Stretcher confirmed.

"Then I will call him Breakaway."


End file.
